.. 

r  j 

r  \\' 

\ 

B| 

Wf) 

11  ni 

1 

'n'"l 

>■■"■' 

^l^-o>^' 

•'''■'•'■■^  •;>,; 

mi, 


f..M.:::^^. 


H 


^ttfK 


i'^-'Ui 


\.J/^ 


K 


^'ti^.Jirt: 


,>ai' 


«it» 


r''!l!"-.J(: 


■'•': 

,'(•'■:' 

:?':!!!" 

!'iiu:- 


'*■>  ^■''  .-''"^r 


Ji^-      ..r'-'^'- 


ir:? 


I 


CK-^^ 


^. 


MACMILLAN'S     STANDARD     LIBRARY 


tCbe  ©a?  Before  gesterba? 


Zhc   2)ai2   Before 
l^esterba^ 


BY 

SARA  ANDREW  SHAFER 


NEW   YOEK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


CoPTBionT,  1904, 
By  the  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  February,  1904.     Reprinted 
July,  August,  December,  1904  ;  April,  1906. 


NorfaooD  J^resss 

J.  S.  Cuihing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mail.,  U.S.A. 


Ss  2  5 


d 


ICU4 


to  SDaff^ ;  anu  to  t^t  precious  memory 
of  tjear  E>ick* 


iviG37319 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.  The  Village         .       •       .       • 

n.  The  New  Gown    .... 

TTT.  Show  Day 

rV.  Miss  Timlow         .... 

V.  What  might  have  been  Expected 

VL  Having  the  Congressman  to  Tea 

Vn.  An  Affliction  in  the  Family 

VIII.  Fetching  the  Spoons  . 

IX.  A  Chapter  of  Calamities 

X.  "Joys  that  we've  tasted" 

XI.  The  County  Fair 

Xn.  The  Conquest  of  Apollyon 

Xm.  The  Red  Astrakhans 


PXGX 
1 

20 

39 

62 

73 

96 

112 

129 

146 

173 

193 

214 

230 


Vll 


^be  2)ai2  Before  l^esterbais 

CHAPTER   I 
t^t  tillage 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  Village,  which 
lives  now  only  in  the  memory  of  a  few  gray- 
haired  men  and  women,  but  which  was  in  its 
day  the  fairest  and  the  dearest  spot  the  sun 
ever  shone  upon. 

It  has  not  been  blotted  out  by  any  terrible 
elemental  forces ;  it  has  not  been  left  behind  in 
the  swift  onrush  of  life  as  it  is  lived  in  these 
latter  days.  Its  name  — its  pretty  French  name, 
the  legacy  of  the  brave  Jesuits  who  passed  that 
way,  long,  long  ago  —  still  stands  in  the  old  place 
on  the  map  —  such  a  favored  place  !  Indeed,  it 
stands  there  now  in  the  heavy  type  by  which 
the  map-men  pay  their  respects  to  places  in 
which  there  are  many  railways,  and  where  there 
is  much  traffic ;  but  the  Village  is  lost,  none  the 
less,  and  when  the  old  boys  and  girls  go  back 


2         THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

to  it,  it  is  only  now  and  then  that  their  wistful 
eyes  can  find  something  they  have  remembered, 
or  some  one  whom  they  knew  long  years  ago. 

In  the  lost  years  the  Village  lay  in  the  hollow 
of  the  palm  of  the  fair  prairie,  which  held  it 
right  lovingly,  knowing  how  precious  it  was. 
Green  billows  of  waving  corn,  yellow  shoals 
of  bending  wheat,  gray-green  drifts  of  foamy 
oats,  and  crimson  tides  of  rippling  clover  flowed 
in  to  the  very  edge  of  the  Addition,  on  whose 
trim  streets  the  thrifty  Germans  dwelt  apart. 
Great  bur-oaks  held  themselves  together,  here 
and  there,  whispering  of  the  old  wild  days  they 
had  known  before  the  coming  of  the  Palefaces, 
and  so  holding  in  scorn  all  petty  things,  by  rea- 
son of  the  nobility  of  their  own  great  natures, 
that  under  them  grew  no  noxious  weeds,  but 
rather  waving  seas  of  blue-grass,  tipped  with 
dandelions,  maybe,  or  with  blue  violets,  or 
buttercups,  — 

»'*  The  little  children's  dower." 

Like  jewels  a  string  of  lakes  and  ponds  cut  by 
old  glaciers,  flashed  and  sparkled,  green  girdled 
by  the  woods.  How  clear  and  cool  were  the 
waters  fed  by  their  hidden  springs!  How 
white,  how  golden,  the  lilies  and  the  lotus  that 


THE   VILLAGE  3 

rocked  in  their  leafy  coves  !  How  free  and  fleet 
the  fishes  that  darted  through  their  pleasant 
depths!  There  were  islets  rising  here  and 
there,  and  on  these  stood  the  last  of  a  mighty 
race  of  pine  trees,  long  since  fallen  before  the 
greed  of  man.  Polypody  grew  there,  and  club- 
mosses,  partridge  berries,  and  pipsissewa,  bronzed 
lichens,  and  mosses  like  hoar-frost  —  all  unlike 
the  growths  of  the  mainland,  and  all  long 
vanished  now. 

The  Village  was  built  as  a  village  should  be, 
with  a  long  vertebral  main  street,  from  which, 
riblike,  some  cross-streets  lost  themselves  in 
the  prairies  and  in  the  ponds.  Wide  and  cool 
lay  the  streets,  shadowed  from  end  to  end  by 
rows  of  sugar-maples,  whose  branches  all  but 
roofed  them  in,  and  bordered  by  pleasant  cot- 
tages, each  having  behind  its  own  white  fence, 
its  own  garden.  Now  the  fences  are  gone,  and 
the  lawns,  trimmed  by  shrill,  whirring  machines, 
are  all  alike  in  the  careful  groupings  of  cannas, 
and  scarlet  sages,  and  coleus,  and  pink  gera- 
niums. Then  every  housewife  expressed  her- 
self, not  her  neighbor,  in  her  garden,  and  there 
was  not  a  bedding-out  plant  within  fifty  miles 
of  the  borders  wherein,  under  her  loving  care, 


4         THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

grew  the  luxuriant  bulbs  and  shrubs  and  peren- 
nials which  she  loved.  To  walk  with  one  of  these 
gentle  gardeners  through  her  plantings,  was  to 
know  an  epitome  of  her  life.  This  rose-bush, 
with  the  loosely  petalled  blossoms  offered  to 
June  and  then  withdrawn  to  wait  for  another 
Longest  Day,  was  from  a  slip  Great-grandfather 
had  carried  into  the  Western  wilderness  when  he 
left  the  old  home,  soon  after  the  Revolution,  to 
make  a  new  home  for  the  girl  he  loved,  and  for 
whose  sake  he  cherished  it  through  all  the  wid- 
owed years  he  bore  with  cheerfulness  and  cour- 
age, until  he  went  to  join  Great-grandmother, 
who  had  been  fifty  years  in  heaven.  These  great 
pink  mallows  were  from  seed  brought  into  that 
fearful  West  before  the  Eighteenth  Century  had 
closed  its  sad  drama  of  exile.  The  Sweet 
Williams  were  from  Mary,  who  had  been  so  long 
«  away."  The  little  rosy  daisies,  the  tulips,  the 
daffodils,  the  blue  flags,  the  yellow  cowslips,  the 
pink  rockets,  the  rose  campion,  the  Japan  quince 
bush,  the  Prairie  Queen  above  the  porch,  the 
honeysuckles,  the  lilacs,  the  syringas,  the  hearts- 
ease, the  sweet  peas  —  each  had  its  story.  None 
had  been  bought  with  money  ;  each  was  the  gift 
of  love,  and  those  were  gardens  to  remember. 


THE  VILLAGE  5 

Of    the    Main    Street    the    Court-house    was 
the  heart.     Built  after  some  dim  suggestion  of 
the   ideas  of    Sir  Christopher  Wren,  its  pretty 
white   bell    tower   rose    above   a    colonnade    of 
white  pine  pillars  which  showed    between  the 
green    of   many    trees.       Its   bell  was   used  on 
court  days,  for  fires,  for  political  meetings,  and 
for  news  from  the   front  in  the   terrible    days 
of    the    Civil    War,    when    almost    every    man 
capable    of   bearing  arms  was  standing   before 
the    guns.      Midnight   or  midnoon,  if  over   the 
wires  came  tidings  of  victory  or  of  defeat,  the 
bell  called  the  Villagers  to  hear   the  message. 
What  tears  fell,  as  a  woman,  whose  heart  was 
broken,  turned  amid  the  respectful  silence  of  her 
neighbors  who  were  his  friends,  to  walk  back  to 
the  home  which  was  darkened  forever!     What 
shouts  of  joy  arose  when  good  news  came,  and 
how  swiftly  up  to  the  top  of  the  tall  flag-staff  went 
the  most  beautiful  flag  that  floats!     Far  over  the 
Village  trees  the  country  folk  could  see  the  sign 
of  triumph ;  and  the  boy  at  the  plough,  or  the  old 
man  at  his  window,  could  rejoice  that  peace  was 
one  day  nearer  to  the  land   he  loved,  however 
dearly  peace  must  cost. 

About  the  Court-house  stood  the  little  shops 


6         THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

where  the  ladies  went  in  the  Spring  and  Fall  to 
buy  the  heavy  black  silks  for  state  occasions,  or 
the  warm  brown  merinos  or  delicate  prints  and 
fine  cotton  stuffs  with  which  their  simple  tastes 
were  pleased  in  those  simple  days.  The  dress- 
maker who  made  their  gowns  and  the  milliner 
who  trimmed  their  velvet  or  net  bonnets,  or  deco- 
rated the  flapping  hats  which  adorned  the  heads 
of  their  children,  were  ladies  themselves,  and 
quite  incapable  of  smiling  at  the  little  economies 
of  making  over  gowns,  or  of  freshening  up  bon- 
nets with  a  new  rose  or  a  new  plume.  What 
beautiful  French  roses  those  were,  and  what  rich 
plumes !  The  ladies  of  the  Village  tolerated  noth- 
ing but  the  best,  and  would  have  stood  aghast 
at  the  offerings  of  a  modern  bargain  counter. 
There  are  no  ladies  now  like  those  who  wore 
those  delicate  undersleeves  and  collars  of  convent 
needlework,  and  in  whose  glossy  hair  were  such 
lovely  combs  of  tortoise-shell. 

On  the  side  streets  stood  the  Churches  with 
green  blinded  windows,  and  with  rows  of  posts 
outside  to  which  country  horses  were  tied  during 
the  long  hours  of  service.  Not  to  go  to  Church 
was  a  thing  not  to  be  dreamed  of  among  peo- 
ple of  standing,  or  even  of  no  standing  at  all. 


THE   VILLAGE  7 

0  pleasant  summer  Sabbaths,  when  all  the  Vil- 
lage bells  rang  in  brotherly  chimings  regardless 
of  doctrinal  differences  and  the  Village  folk  fared 
forth  into  the  shady  streets  !  0  pleasant  sound 
of  holy  hymns,  wafted  through  the  open  windows  ! 
O  fervent  voices  lifted  in  fervent  prayer,  and 
in  the  long  expositions  of  the  texts !  O  sweet 
stillness  of  the  sunshine,  so  different  in  its  aspect 
from  everyday  sunshine  that  even  without  the 
bells  and  the  stiffly  starched  collars  and  petti- 
coats the  youngest  child  must  have  known  that 
it  was  Sunday,  and  0  the  long,  long  blossomy 
Sunday  afternoons ! 

Schoolhouses  ?  Certainly  there  were  School- 
houses,  but  these  were  melancholy,  uninteresting 
places  whither  one  was  forced  to  go  for  long, 
unprofitable  hours,  but  of  which  no  normal  child 
would  willingly  think  directly  those  hours  were 
over.  There  were  so  many  things  to  do  that 
were  really  important,  it  was  hardly  to  be  ex- 
pected that  any  one  would  cherish  any  affection 
for  those  daily  prisons;  so  in  the  children's 
minds  they  did  not  stand  for  a  tithe  of  what 
the  smallest  workshop,  where  things  were  made, 
stood  for. 

By  a  great  good  fortune  the  nicest  working- 


8         THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

men  in  the  whole  world  chose  the  Village  as  the 
scene  of  their  beneficent  lives — a  really  very  supe- 
rior race  of  workingmen,  whom  all  children  loved. 
There  were,  first  of  all,  the  Blacksmiths  whose  shop 
was  just  across  the  street  from  Oak  House,  where 
the  Doctor  lived.  Glowing  iron  was  beaten 
there  into  whatever  form  the  strong-armed  smith 
willed  —  cling,  clang,  the  hammer  fell  rhythmi- 
cally on  the  anvil,  while  arms,  strong  and  black, 
worked  at  the  bellows  in  the  murky  depths  of 
the  smithy  in  which  fires  glowed  with  a  glow 
unknown  to  other  fires.  There  was  nothing  par- 
ticular to  be  gotten  from  the  Blacksmith's, 
although  sometimes  the  boys  secured  an  old 
horse-shoe,  or  a  few  thickish  nails  which  they 
did  not  know  exactly  what  to  do  with.  In  gen- 
eral, the  Village  children  had  the  primal  acquisi- 
tiveness of  their  race,  and  frankly  liked  people 
or  went  to  places  with  an  honest  eye  for  what 
they  hoped  to  receive ;  but  from  the  forge  they 
asked  only  the  smoking  fire,  the  clangor  of  ham- 
mer and  anvil,  and  the  pleasant  consciousness  of 
the  strength  of  Smiths  themselves  who  ranked 
high  in  their  regard. 

There   was  the    foundry,  which  had  a   shrill 
whistle   by  which   the   workman's  hours  were 


THE   VILLAGE  9 

measured.  Children  might  not  cross  the  foun- 
dry threshold,  however  agreeable  they  might 
have  found  it  to  look  at  the  great  shafts  and 
boilers  that  were  making,  or  to  watch  the  whirl 
of  belts  and  wheels.  Now  and  then  some  grimy 
Foundry  man  was  thoughtful  enough  to  bring  out 
a  gift  of  long  coils  of  steel  shavings,  —  fascinating, 
desirable  above  all  things,  —  but  not  really  very 
useful  after  all ;  or,  better  by  far,  he  would  give 
the  boys  a  lump  of  moulding  clay.  Marbles 
could  be  rolled  of  this,  and  baked  in  the  kitchen 
stove,  if  the  cook  were  willing ;  and  although 
these  never  came  to  anything,  and  the  boys  had 
plenty  of  marbles  without  them,  few  things  do 
fulfil  the  expectations  formed  for  them.  In  this 
life  it  is  the  game  which  is  the  great  thing,  not 
the  winning.  The  Foundrymen  were,  therefore, 
persons  to  be  held  in  great  esteem,  and  there 
could  be  no  greater  pleasure  than  to  watch  the 
flare  of  the  furnace  flames  as  they  were  unfurled 
in  fiery  banners  above  the  tall  chimneys,  or  the 
swarms  of  sparks  —  the  fire-flies  of  Winter  — 
whirl  out  of  the  black  funnels,  and  die  out  in 
the  cold  night  air. 

A  very  delightful  set  of  Carpenters  also   in- 
habited the  Village.     Under  their  benches  were 


10       THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

shavings,  so  fine  and  soft  that  it  was  a  pity  one 
had  hair  at  all,  such  fine  wigs  could  have  been 
made  of  them.  Among  the  shavings  the  Car- 
penters were  wont  to  throw  bits  of  wood, 
squares,  triangles,  oblongs,  sometimes  even  bits 
that  had  been  turned  on  a  lathe,  and  were  curled 
or  beaded ;  and  all  these  treasures  the  kindly 
craftsmen  made  free  to  the  children,  who  might 
fill  hats  and  aprons  and  pockets  to-day,  and 
come  back  to-morrow  for  fresh  stores  if  they 
liked.  Hammers  and  saws,  augurs  and  chisels 
and  gimlets,  and  all  sorts  of  interesting  shiny 
things  hung  against  the  shop  wall.  One  was  even 
allowed  sometimes  to  hold  the  spirit-level,  and 
watch  the  bubble  of  imprisoned  air  come  and 
go.  That  was  not  often,  for  one  was  taught  at 
home  not  to  ask  questions,  or  to  be  troublesome ; 
but  how  could  one  help  loving  the  Carpenters 
who  knew  how  to  use  the  curious  tools,  and  who 
were  so  kind  ?  The  children  had  heard  often 
and  often  of  a  Boy  who,  long,  long  ago,  had 
worked  in  the  carpenter  shop  of  Joseph,  and 
sometimes  they  almost  expected,  in  the  dim  half- 
knowledge  through  which  children  grope,  that 
He  might  come  in,  and  that  they  might  see  Him 
take  the  plane,  and  curl  the  wood  into  white 


THE   VILLAGE  11 

shavings  as   He  made  a  yoke  which  should  be 
easy  for  the  oxen  to  wear. 

It  has  been  said  that  picket-fences  stood  along 
the  Village  streets,  but  it  has  not  been  told 
why  they  were  there  to  guard  the  pretty  front- 
yards.  It  was  because  of  the  cows.  Everybody 
had  a  cow,  and  after  the  morning  milking  —  a 
function  usually  performed  at  the  side  gate 
where  the  border  of  grass  was  cropped  close 
by  the  waiting  creatures  —  they  were  turned 
forth,  and  were  free  to  wander  whither  their 
own  wills  led  them,  until  nightfall  brought 
them  back  to  the  milking-pails  once  more.  It 
was  pleasant  for  the  cows,  so  pleasant  that  the 
boys  had  often  to  lay  aside  very  important 
things  in  order  to  hunt  and  to  harry  home 
delinquent  beasts ;  but  it  was  not  so  pleasant 
for  the  Villagers,  who,  although  taking  their  own 
share  in  the  privilege,  only  permitted  the  custom 
because  of  the  German  Vote,  —  an  unseen  thing, 
greatly  desired  and  greatly  feared,  and  which  de- 
pended largely  upon  the  German  cows.  The  cows 
themselves  seemed  quite  conscious  of  their  politi- 
cal importance,  and  thought  nothing  of  staring 
the  stateliest  ladies  in  the  face,  or  of  being  quite 
grumpy  if  the  Minister  or  the  Judge  poked  them 


12   THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

in  the  sides  with  canes.  To  the  children  the 
cows  were  of  all  creatures  the  most  fearsome, 
and  in  the  adventures  of  their  quiet  lives  figured 
much  as  lions  might  in  those  of  small  Numidians. 
Dark  stories  were  told  of  certain  animals  sup- 
posed to  be  of  a  peculiarly  vicious  and  hooky 
nature.  The  boys  told  these  tales,  and  so  fright- 
ened the  little  girls  that  to  them  all  cows  were 
hooky,  and  the  Old  Orchard  as  terrible  as  the 
Inferno. 

Now  it  was  in  the  Old  Orchard  that  the  cows 
did  mostly  congregate,  —  and  no  wonder.  The 
Old  Orchard  was  an  unfenced  tract,  whereon  grew 
some  rows  of  ancient  cherry  and  apple  trees. 
In  the  Springtime  these  were  veritable  Bowres 
of  Blisse,  for  as  soon  as  the  April  sunshine  gave 
them  leave,  the  cherry  trees  hid  themselves  in 
garments  of  bloom  so  white,  so  sweet,  that  it 
was  not  strange  that  every  bee  for  miles  around 
came  singing  to  the  feast  they  olfered,  and  mur- 
mured in  the  snowy  flower-cups  a  song  so  won- 
derful that  only  the  smallest  children  had  hearts 
pure  enough  to  understand  it.  And  they  never 
told  it,  and  if  they  had  no  Grown-up  could  have 
known  what  it  meant. 

After  the   cherries    had    shaken    down   their 


THE  VILLAGE  13 

bloom  in  showers  of  perfumed  snow,  the  apple 
trees  took  up  the  joyful  task  of  making  the  old 
orchard  into  a  fairy-land.     For  the  most  of  the 
year  they  relied  upon  gray  lichens  or  green  leaves 
to  deck  themselves  withal ;  but  when  May  came 
laughing  over  the  prairie,  they  had  their  week 
of    enchanted    youth    once    more.       They    were 
white,   they  were   gray,    they    were   pink,  they 
were  silver-green  in  a  wonderful  varying  scale 
of  color  which  no  other  apple  trees  ever  knew. 
Nobody  expected  any  fruit  from  them ;  the  little 
they  did  bear  was  too  hard  and  knotty  for  even 
the  hardiest,  hungriest  boy,  so  the  boughs  could 
be  rifled  of  their  bloom  at  will,  and  there  might 
not  have  been  a  pink  petal  left  to  fall  on  the 
close-cropped    sward   below   but    for    the   cows, 
who   lay  in    the  pleasant    shade,   and   by  their 
mere  presence  kept  the  children  at  bay. 

Sometimes  there  were  sheep,  but  not  often, 
and  when  there  were  sheep  it  was  Summer. 
Where  they  came  from,  whither  they  went,  who 
knew  ?  There  would  be  a  cry,  "  Sheep  !  sheep  !  " 
and  the  picket-fences  would  straightway  be  alive 
with  perching  children.  There  would  be  a  thick 
cloud  of  dust  in  the  distance,  then  a  sound  of 
bleating  in  many  tones  of  complaint,  from  the 


14       THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

loud  one  of  the  old  horned  patriarch  who  led  the 
flock,  to  the  sorrowful,  soft  ba-a-ing  of  the  weak- 
legged  lambs.  Then  there  would  be  the  sound 
of  many  feet ;  then  the  full  view  of  a  closely 
packed  drove  of  many  hot,  woolly  bodies ;  the 
slow  calls  of  the  men  who  guided  the  flock ; 
the  sharp  barkings  of  the  anxious  sheep-dog ;  the 
warm  scent  of  the  tired  animals,  a  diminishing 
scale  of  soft  minor  sounds;  the  gradual  disap- 
pearance of  the  dust  cloud,  a  thick-quilted  pat- 
tern wrought  by  a  multitude  of  little  feet  in 
the  deep  midsummer's  dust,  and  then  the  chil- 
dren would  vanish  also,  and  the  deep  peace  of 
the  day  fall  once  more  upon  the  place. 

One's  own  relations  and  particular  friends 
were,  of  course,  of  the  first  importance  in  one's 
view  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Village  ;  but  besides 
these  there  were  no  end  of  interesting  people 
who  lived  in  odd  corners.  Perhaps  had  the 
children  known  these  persons,  they  would  not 
have  been  so  wonderful  as  they  were  when  they 
only  looked  at  them,  and  thought  about  them, 
and  spoke  of  them  to  one  another.  There  was 
the  old  gentleman  who  was  called  the  Major. 
He  was  tall  and  spare,  his  hair  and  whiskers 
were  very  white,  and  the  skin  on  his  delicate  old 


THE   VILLAGE  15 

face  was  very  pink.  Was  it  always,  or  only 
sometimes,  that  he  wore  an  Indian  suit  of  white 
buckskin  ?  It  seemed  to  be  always,  but  maybe 
it  was  only  sometimes,  just  as  it  seemed  as  if  it 
were  always  that  pink  damask  roses  bloomed 
under  his  old  wife's  window.  Anyhow,  there 
were  leathern  fringes  around  his  blouse  and 
down  the  legs  of  his  trousers,  and  on  the  blouse 
there  was  a  belt  and  many  pockets.  He  wore 
a  wide  felt  hat  and  looked  very  fierce  and  war- 
like, although  the  only  occupation  of  his  life 
seemed  to  be  going  once  a  day  to  the  Post- 
office  to  get  his  paper. 

A  little  old  Englishwoman  was  also  a  very  de- 
lightful person.  Where  did  she  live  ?  The  chil- 
dren never  knew.  Out  of  the  sunshine  she 
came,  and  into  it  she  went  —  that  was  all.  Ages 
before  the  era  of  short  skirts,  her  skirts  were  so 
short  that  they  showed  her  neat  prunella  shoes 
and  a  glimpse  of  spotless  hose.  A  shawl  of  the 
same  black  stuff  as  her  gown  was  pinned  over 
her  shoulders  in  such  a  way  as  to  display  the 
fine  lawn  kerchief  crossed  on  her  bosom.  On 
her  head  was  a  close  little  black  poke  bonnet  with 
a  little  white  frill  inside,  and  a  stiff  little  cape 
behind.      She  walked  with  the  daintiest  steps. 


16       THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

and  when  slie  saw  one's  mother  she  dropped 
a  courtesy.  No  one  in  all  the  Village  did  this 
homage  but  this  tiny,  dainty  English  body,  and 
that  one  bit  of  Old  World  manners  would  have 
given  her  distinction  even  without  the  basket, 
which  gave  her  more.  A  strong,  light  basket 
with  a  cover  and  a  handle.  From  under  the 
cover  the  edges  and  corners  of  a  snowy-white 
napkin  could  be  seen.  What  was  in  the  basket  ? 
The  children  never  knew,  but  it  was  a  subject 
for  endless  speculation,  and  it  was  generally 
conceded  that  something  to  eat,  of  a  more  than 
earthly  flavor,  was  hidden  by  that  lid. 

The  little  German-French  woman,  whom  they 
all  called  "  Grossmutter,"  was  no  stranger  to 
any  child,  but  was  the  friend  of  all.  In  her 
garden,  beside  the  flowers  and  vegetables  they 
knew,  were  good-smelling  herbs  of  many  strange 
kinds.  She  always  carried  a  bit  folded  in  with 
her  best  handkerchief  inside  her  hymn  book  when 
she  went  to  Church,  and  she  let  the  little  visitors 
help  themselves  to  the  fragrant  sprigs  whenever 
they  would.  A  willow  grew  beside  her  well, 
the  best  willow  for  whistle-making  that  ever 
grew  anywhere,  and  she  let  the  boys  climb  and 
gut  among  its  branches  as  much  as  they  liked 


THE   VILLAGE  17 

while  she  sat  below  with  her  little  spinning- 
wheel,  and  whirled  and  drew  the  thread  in  the 
sunshine.  Her  large  dark  eyes  and  brown  skin, 
her  nervous  motions  and  her  quick  sympathies, 
were  "  made  in  France,"  but  her  speech  was  of 
Germany.  She  had  some  charming  stories  of 
her  native  Alsace,  and  could  even  remember  the 
great  Napoleon  and  his  army  when  they  marched 
through  the  province  in  1814.  Her  mother  hid 
her  and  her  pretty  elder  sister  in  the  flax  that 
was  drying  in  a  smoky  loft  above  the  cottage 
kitchen,  and  Grossmutter  could  remember  tak- 
ing her  turn  in  peeping  through  a  knot-hole  in 
the  floor,  and  seeing  her  mother  bending  over  the 
fire  as  she  cooked  for  the  hungry  soldiers  who 
came  and  went  during  all  the  long  hours  of  her 
imprisonment. 

Sometimes  the  streets  were  enlivened  by 
pageants  that  lived  long  in  memories  which 
had  not  much  to  remember.  A  Circus  might 
come  to  town,  or  the  Firemen  might  have  a 
parade,  or,  best  of  all,  there  were  the  political 
processions  that  always  came  in  October.  Of 
course  those  of  the  political  party  to  which  one 
was  affiliated  were  of  the  more  vital  interest,  and 
the  small  politicians  were  deeply  versed  in  the 


18       THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

proper  number  of  bands,  the  representations 
from  various  country  neighborhoods  and  elec- 
tion precincts,  and  the  general  amount  of  en- 
thusiasm proper  on  such  occasions.  To  have 
one  more  band  playing  the  national  airs ;  a 
dozen  more  horseback-riders,  or  even  an  extra 
illustrative  "  float "  than  could  be  shown  by  the 
opposing  faction,  was  essential  to  the  honor  of 
the  candidates  one  was  supporting  with  frantic 
wavings  of  the  flag,  and  jeering  flings  at  boys 
of  the  "  other  side  "  who  stood  on  corners  with 
tongues  derisively  extended,  or  sneering  smiles 
and  pointing,  scornful  fingers.  On  election  days, 
which  seemed  shortlj^  to  follow  in  the  wake  of 
a  Parade,  —  when  little  girls  were  compelled  to 
walk  to  school  by  way  of  back  streets,  in  order 
to  avoid  the  highly  interesting  fights  sure  to  occur 
about  the  polls,  —  it  was  almost  a  law  that  each 
child  have  a  printed  ballot  pinned  to  its  jacket  or 
pinafore,  and  many  and  scathing  were  the  taunts 
flung  next  day  at  the  adherents  of  the  cause  that 
was  lost. 

The  Village  itself  is  lost  now,  and  almost  all  of 
the  men  and  women  —  jres  —  and  the  children, 
too,  who  lived  there  in  the  sweet  old  days,  have 
fared  for  the  last  time  over  the  long  roadway 


THE   VILLAGE  19 

that  leads  to  the  still  God's-acre,  and  have  crept 
under  the  green  coverlet  into  the  silence  where 
they  have  found  all  they  ever  longed  for.  Before 
it  is  too  late,  one  of  them  would  fain  hand  on  to 
another  generation  some  of  the  brightness  of  long- 
lost  years,  and  so,  without  further  preface  begins 
the  story  of  a  little  group  of  children  who  lived 
in  the  Village  of  the  Day  before  Yesterday. 


CHAPTER   II 

To  Rachel  the  Village  was  the  whole  of  the 
great,  round  world.  There  were,  she  knew, 
other  places  to  which  people  sometimes  went, 
and  from  which  they  sometimes  came,  but  they 
were  vague  and  unimportant.  Father  went  to 
them  sometimes,  and  Mother  had  been,  but  not 
often,  and  not  since  Rachel  could  remember. 
Perhaps  it  was  because  they  had  no  time  for 
travel ;  perhaps  it  was  because  they  liked  staying 
in  the  Village  best :  this  was  the  more  probable 
reason,  since  it  was,  undoubtedly,  place  enough 
for  any  sensible  person.  Still  there  was  Vir- 
ginia, where  Grandmother  had  been  a  little  girl, 
and  of  which  her  stories  were  so  many  and  so 
fascinating,  and  there  was  Ohio,  which  had  been 
the  family  stepping-stone  for  a  generation,  in  its 
following  of  the  sun.  These,  first  and  best. 
Then  there  were  France  and  Holland,  where 
other  and  older   grandparents  had  been  born ; 

20 


THE   NEW   GOWN  21 

and  Ireland  and  Scotland,  which  had  been  home 
to  others ;  and  there  was  Boston,  where  an  ever- 
so-many-years-ago    great-grandfather    had    been 
whipped  at  the  cart's  tail  for  being  a  Quaker. 
Rachel  was  very  glad  the  family  had  left  of!  being 
Quakers.     She  liked  dear  Mother's  white  horse- 
hair bonnet  trimmed  with  lace,  and  with  cherries 
of  a  most  wonderful  cherryness,  far  better  than 
the  plain  head-gear  old  Mrs.  Dale  wore,  and  she 
would  have  cried  her  eyes  out  to  see  dear  Father 
whipped  at  the  cart's  tail ;  so  the  family  religion 
suited  her,  as  did,  in  all  things,  that  place  in  life 
to  which  it  had  pleased  God  to  call  her.     The 
other  places  were,  moreover,  probably  not  very 
far   off,  — Bagdad,    the    Sand-hills    of    Jutland, 
the    Alhambra,   the   Island    of    Cyprus,  and   all 
the  adventurous,  glittering,  perfumed  blossomy 
fairy-land  in  which  her  thoughts  spent  most  of 
their  time.     The  people  who  walked  about  the 
quiet  Village  streets  were  hardly  more  real  to  her 
than    the    knights    and    ladies,    the    trolls   and 
witches,  the  giants  and  fairies,  of  her  imagina- 
tion, and  were,  indeed,  by  that   same  imagina- 
tion invested  with  attributes  and  characters,  and 
bidden  to  perform  deeds  by  her  wild  fancies  of 
which  they  w^ere  wholly  unaware.     Many  staid 


22       THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

and  respectable  men  figured  before  her  as  mon- 
sters of  a  most  monstrous  wickedness,  and  were 
attainted  by  her  of  crimes  of  magnitude;  and 
many  poor  but  pretty  girls  were  decked  out,  in 
her  eyes,  in  jewels  of  price  and  robes  of  regal 
magnificence  ;  while  to  wear  ugly  clothes  and 
have  unlovely  manners  were  quite  enough  to 
relegate  anybody  at  all  to  the  realm  of  witch- 
craft. 

It  was,  therefore,  with  feelings  of  horror  that 
Rachel  heard  her  doom. 

"My  dear,"  said  the  Doctor's  Wife,  "I  have 
taken  my  changeable  silk  dress  to  the  Misses 
Tucker  to  be  made  over  for  you.  They  will  be 
ready  to  try  it  on  you  at  ten  o'clock  this  morn- 
ing, and  you  must  start  by  half-past  nine.  Mind 
you  do  not  play  along  the  street,  and  behave 
prettily  and  quietly  while  you  are  there." 

The  Misses  Tucker  !  Didn't  dear  Mother  know 
that  they  were  the  worst  of  all  the  witches? 
Even  Sophy  Jane  was  afraid  of  them,  and  Sophy 
Jane  was  almost  twelve. 

«  Oh,  Mother,  won't  you  go  with  me  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear ;  I  cannot  spare  the  time." 

«  Mayn't  Dick  and  Daffy  go  ?  " 

Dick  interposed :  — 


THE   NEW   GOWN  23 

"  To  the  Miss  Tucker-Girls  ?     Not  much  !  " 

"  Daffy  may  go  if  you  will  not  make  the  little 
thing  run,  or  let  her  fall  down.  Now,  Rachel, 
stop  frowning.  You  are  to  go,  and  you  are  to 
go  properly.  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  anything 
more  about  it." 

At  half-past  nine  Rachel's  hat  was  firmly 
adjusted  to  her  head,  and  the  elastic  cord  that 
held  it  on  was  snapped  into  place  by  the  relent- 
less Tutu.  Tutu  was  the  nurse.  Daffy's  pretty 
curls  were  twitched  into  place  by  the  same 
tiring-maid  but  with  gentler  hands.  The  gum 
string  that  held  on  her  hat  was  too  tight,  and 
marked  her  round  throat  with  a  deep  crease. 
The  ringlets  were  adjusted  in  a  way  that  tickled 
her  ears  in  a  manner  very  distasteful  to  the  little 
girl.  She  never  thought  of  protesting.  Tutu 
always  did  things  so ;  probably  there  was  no 
other  way.  Daffy  was  not  speculative ;  she 
was  only  patient. 

Tutu  opened  the  front  door.  Just  inside  the 
gate  stood  the  Cousins.  Molly  held  a  note  in 
her  hand. 

ii  We've  come  to  stay  until  twelve  o'clock," 
they  announced.  "Mother  sent  this  letter  to 
Aunt  Kitty,  and  everybody  is  invited  to  the  Old 


24       THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

House  to  spend  the  day  to-morrow.  There's 
going  to  be  a  Show  in  the  Old  Orchard." 

The  Cousins  lived  in  the  Old  House  with 
Grandfather  and  Grandmother  and  the  Aunts. 
The  other  grandparents,  those  who  lived  at 
Linwood,  were  called  Grandpa  and  Grandma, 
and  though  the  Doctor's  children  loved  all  of 
the  dear  old  people  most  tenderly,  it  was  to 
Grandmother  and  Grandpa  that  their  hearts 
turned  for  the  kindliest  sympathy  and  the 
readiest  aid  in  time  of  trouble.  So  to  go  to 
Grandpa's  at  Linwood,  or  to  Grandmother's  at 
the  Old  House,  was  an  event  of  most  joyful 
importance. 

"Oh,  Tutu,"  gasped  Rachel,  "do  you  sup- 
pose the  Miss  Tucker-Girls  will  have  my  new 
dress  done  by  then  ?  " 

"  Indeed  they  won't,  and  if  they  did,  do  you 
think  I'd  let  you  go  gallivanting  about  all  day 
with  it  on  your  back  ?  It'll  be  your  Sunday-go- 
to-meeting  for  one  long  day,  and  Daffy's  after 
you've  outgrown  it  if  there's  anything  left  of 
it  but  rags,  which  there  mostly  isn't  of  your 
things,"  said  the  severe  Canadian,  who  would 
have  died  cheerfully  for  any  one  of  her  charges 
(especially  Dick,  and  especially  Daffy),  but  who 


THE  NEW   GOWN  25 

felt  it  to  be  part  of  her  duty  toward  them  to 
keep  their  feet  set  sternly  in  the  narrow  way. 
"Run  along  now,  all  of  you.  I  am  going  to 
make  pies  this  morning,  and  you  shall  each  have 
a  little  turnover  when  you  come  back,  if  you're 
good." 

That  sounded  encouraging,  and  four  were 
better  than  two  if  an  assault  on  the  witches' 
den  were  inevitable ;  so  they  set  off  rather 
cheerfully,  after  all. 

It  was  a  long  way  to  the  little  cottage.  It 
had  but  one  story,  but  it  had  two  front  doors : 
one  for  use,  and  one  before  which  was  no  door- 
step, no  path,  and  no  gate,  and  which  was 
never  opened  —  a  most  mysterious  door.  A  row 
of  small-paned  windows  stretched  between  these 
doors,  and  over  these  grew  mouldy  lilac  bushes 
shutting  out  the  northern  light  from  the  clean 
little  rooms  within.  Even  now,  when  the  year 
was  at  high  lilac-tide,  only  a  few  pale  clusters 
bloomed  on  the  ancient  bushes,  and  the  fra- 
grance of  these  was  shut  out  from  the  house  by 
the  firmly  closed  sashes.  How  could  people 
shut  out  the  scent  of  the  lilacs  ? 

Within,  on  three  rush-bottomed  chairs,  slept 
three  yellow  cats,  and  on  three  "rockers"  sat 


26       THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

the  three  old  ladies  who  made  the  dresses  of  the 
Village  children.  Their  mothers  took  their  own 
gowns  to  more  modern  mantua-makers ;  but  it 
was  a  point  of  honor  to  give  the  children's  best 
things  to  the  Misses  Tucker,  who  had  lived  in 
the  cottage  and  "  made  over "  for  fifty  years  at 
least.  Probably  they  had  been  called  "The 
Tucker  girls  "  once  in  their  far-away  youth,  and 
although  they  had  merited  the  more  respectful 
title  of  the  Misses  Tucker  since  before  one's 
mother  was  born,  the  "  Girls "  was  added  so 
often  as  an  additional  distinction  that  they 
were  seldom  spoken  of  without  that  suffix. 
They  were,  indeed,  most  highly  thought  of. 

To  their  needle  craft  the  ladies  added  the  dis- 
pensing of  things  that  were  good  for  all  sorts  of 
illnesses  and  accidents,  and  among  the  poorer 
sort  had  a  large  clientele^  upon  whom  they  exer- 
cised their  benevolence  and  their  skill.  Even 
now,  although  the  late  May  air  was  so  warm 
that  the  children  wore  only  thin  cotton  gowns, 
a  wood  fire  burned  smartly  in  the  stove 
on  which,  in  little  pots  and  pans,  herbs  and 
fats  were  stewing  and  simmering  themselves 
into  tiscmes  and  ointments  of  most  potent 
odors. 


THE  NEW  GOWN  27 

Rachel  might  be  sent  to  the  Misses  Tucker  to 
have  a  gown  made,  but  the  Doctor  was  often 
provoked  beyond  endurance  by  the  very  irregu- 
lar practice  of  these  amateur  healers.  It  was, 
indeed,  hard  for  him  to  be  called  in  too  late 
to  help  a  man  with  pneumonia,  who  had  relied 
too  long  upon  their  boneset  tea  and  their  hore- 
hound  syrup.  It  was  discouraging  after  spend- 
ing weeks  in  getting  an  old  woman  out  after  a 
severe  attack  of  inflammatory  rheumatism,  giv- 
ing both  attendance  and  medicine  freely  and 
without  thought  of  fee,  to  have  the  cure  her- 
alded about  as  being  due  to  a  brass  ring  worn 
upon  the  left  thumb,  and  a  buckeye  suspended 
about  the  neck  by  a  red  cord,  in  pursuance  of 
the  advice  of  the  Miss  Tucker-Girls ;  and  when 
poor  little  Tim  McGuire  died  of  a  tuberculous 
swelling,  with  no  other  aid  than  that  afforded 
by  hanging  a  canary  bird  in  every  window  in 
the  house,  under  their  direction,  the  wrath  of 
the  Doctor  was  open  and  great.  But  why  rail 
at  fate?  In  all  ages  and  lands  have  there  not 
been  wise  women  to  whom  the  common  people 
flocked  gladly?  Why  should  not  the  weird 
sisters  of  the  Village  have  their  following? 

The  children  came  slowly  out  of  the  sunshine 


28   THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

into  the  warm  gloom  of  the  chamber,  where  on 
the  white  bed  lay  the  little  frock  ready  for  its 
fitting. 

Now  even  in  the  richest  families  of  the  Village 
no  one  ever  thought  of  buying  a  silk  gown  for 
a  little  girl.  When  a  demoiselle  hien  SlevSe  was 
of  an  age  to  appear  in  such  raiment,  the  ward- 
robes of  mothers  and  aunts  were  examined,  and 
a  laid-aside  garment  of  suitable  color  and  texture 
was  chosen,  to  be  made  over  for  the  small  candi- 
date for  silken  honors.  If  she  were  an  elder 
daughter,  she  wore  it  gravely  and  in  the  fear 
of  the  elders,  by  whose  decree  it  was  to  descend 
to  the  cadette  of  the  household.  Only  sisterless 
children  made  free  with  these  robes  of  state. 
It  was  an  honor  to  have  such  a  dress,  but  it 
was  a  responsibility.  Rachel  did  not  like  re- 
sponsibility, so  she  went  in  slowly,  and  sur- 
rendered herself  reluctantly  to  Miss  'Lizabeth's 
strong,  bony  fingers. 

Miss  'Lizabeth  disrobed  the  little  maiden  with 
much  such  a  show  of  tenderness  as  a  'longshore- 
man might  show  to  a  bag  of  potatoes,  and  she 
dragged  the  shining  silk  over  the  close-cropped 
head  much  as  he  would  haul  a  piece  of  tar- 
pauling   over  a   barrel   of   oysters.     Miss   'Liza, 


THE   NEW   GOWN  29 

who  did  the  buttonholes,  had  gentler  touches*, 
but  Miss  'Liza  had  no  idea  of  style. 

"  Stand  still,  Rachel !  "  she  warned. 

Out  came  the  big  shears  from  Miss  'Lizabeth's 
basket ;  out  came  a  thick  needle  with  a  long  tail 
of  white  cotton  from  the  bosom  of  Miss  'Liza- 
beth's  gown;  out  came  a  handful  of  pins  from 
the  pinball  hanging  by  Miss  'Lizabeth's  side, 
and  into  Miss  'Lizabeth's  mouth  went  every  pin. 

Snip  !  Stitch  !  Pull !  Pin  !  Snip  again  !  It 
was  awful. 

"  Can't  you  stand  any  straighter,  Rachel  ? 
You  can't  ?  Do  tell !  I  declare,  you're  getting 
to  be  that  slab-sided  I  never  saw  your  equal. 
Do  you  ever  have  pains  in  your  back,  or  your 
hip?  Are  you  sure  you  don't?  I  do  hope  to 
mercy  all  this  lop-shoulderedness  don't  mean  hip- 
joint.  It  don't  run  in  your  family  ;  but  you 
never  can  tell.  There  you  go  down  again ! 
Look,  Sis'  'Lina !  look,  Sis'  'Liza !  Ain't  she 
crookeder  'n  when  we  made  her  blue  merino 
before  Christmas  ?  " 

"  She  certainly  is,"  declared  Miss  'Lina  after 
a  long  inspection  both  through  and  over  her 
spectacles.  "  I  wonder  her  pa  don't  doctor  her 
for  it,  though  he's  a  master-hand  for  doing  noth- 


30   THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

ing,  I  will  say  that.  If  it's  hip- joint,  girls,  I 
don't  think  we  ought  to  let  his  prejudices  stand 
in  our  way.  «Ye  can't  serve  God  and  mam- 
mon,' and  I  should  never  forgive  myself,  nor 
you  either,  sisters,  if  that  poor  little  child  went 
hop-and-fetch-it  —  a  limpy,  little  lame  dog  all 
her  life,  just  because  we'd  failed  to  do  our 
duty.  'Liza,  you  get  the  steam-bath  ready,  and 
I'll  hunt  up  some  of  that  liniment  that  did  old 
Jerry  Bangs  so  much  good  when  he  had  shingles, 
while  'Lizabeth's  fitting  the  sleeves." 

«Do  stand  still,  Rachel!  There!  I've  cut  a 
jag  right  in  front  where  it'll  show,  and  all 
because  you  wiggle  so." 

"Perhaps  poor  Rachel  has  St.  Vitus,"  said 
Miss  'Liza.  "It  wouldn't  be  anyways  un- 
likely. The  Doctor's  got  an  awful  temper.  A 
man  like  that  is  very  apt  to  have  a  child  with 
fits  and  things.  I  will  get  the  steam-bath  ready, 
Sis'  'Lina,  of  course,  and  I  don't  say  no  to  the 
jimson  salve,  though  it  does  smell  awful ;  but 
I  do  insist  on  quieting  her  nerves  with  a  good 
dose  of  valerian  before  'Lizabeth  spoils  the  dress 
completely." 

At  the  mention  of  the  good  dose,  the  juniors 
prudently  withdrew.     The  treat  might  include 


THE  NEW  GOWN  31 

them  ;  they  did  not  know.  Rachel  was  left  de- 
fenceless. Her  brow  darkened.  She  could  ven- 
ture on  no  open  act  of  resistance  with  those 
great,  sharp  shears  so  close  to  her  shuddering 
neck,  and  with  all  those  pins  bristling  at  her 
from  Miss  'Lizabeth's  mouth.  One  great-grand- 
father had  been  whipped  at  the  cart's  tail,  it  was 
true ;  but  two  others  were  at  Valley  Forge.  She 
felt  their  blood  in  her  veins. 

Through  the  pins  Miss  'Lizabeth  expressed  her 
views.  Her  accents  were  muffled,  but  her  con- 
victions were  plain. 

«It  may  be  hip-joint,  and  it  may  be  St.  Vitus. 
I  don't  say  no ;  but  I  do  say  there's  a  good  deal 
of  spared  rod  and  spoiled  child  right  here  and 
now.  The  Doctor  and  his  wife  mean  well.  I 
give  them  credit  for  that ;  but  if  ever  I  have  a 
child  and  it  stands  first  on  one  foot  and  then 
on  the  other,  humping  up  and  humping  down, 
and  looking  blacker  'n  thunder  like  this  one, 
I'll  just  acknowledge  that  the  Lord's  forsaken 
me,  and  it's  time  to  begin  a  hand-to-hand  tussle 
with  the  Old  Boy.  There,  Rachel,  praised  be 
Peter,  I'm  through  with  you,  though  how  the 
dress  will  look,  fitted  on  a  squirming  eel,  all 
bones  and  no  flesh  like  you,  I  don't  pretend  to 


32       THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

guess.  Pinked-out  ruffles  and  green  velvet  rib- 
bon don't  make  up  in  my  eyes  for  a  proper- 
setting  waist.  Now  take  off  your  petticoat, 
and  Miss  'Liza  will  put  you  in  the  steam-bath 
after  you've  had  your  valerian,  and  Miss  'Lina'll 
rub  on  the  jimson  salve.  If  they  don't  help 
you,  they  won't  hurt  you,  and  the  Tuckers  will 
have  done  their  duty." 

Rachel  made  one  grab  for  her  old  gown,  lying 
over  a  chair-back.  She  made  another  for  her 
hat,  and  she  made  one  dart,  past  the  cats,  past 
the  steam-bath  and  the  stove,  past  the  astonished 
old  ladies,  and  out  of  the  one  available  front 
door.  In  her  red  petticoat  and  white  underbody 
she  stood  at  the  gate,  free  and  defiant. 

"  Come  back,  Rachel !  Oh,  come  back," 
screamed  the  scandalized  ladies. 

"  Oh,  Rachel,  ain't  you  'shamed  ?  "  piped  the 
three  little  girls  from  under  the  apple  tree  of 
their  retreat. 

"No;  I  ain't  ashamed.  No;  I  won't  come 
back,"  she  declared.  "  I  haven't  got  a  hip-joint, 
and  I  ain't  a  St.  Vitus,  and  Father  hasn't  got  an 
awful  temper,  and  I  won't  go  in  the  bath,  or  be 
rubbed  with  salve,  or  take  any  nasty  old  dose 
whatever.     I  mean  never  to  have  any  more  new 


THE   NEW   GOWN  33 

clothes  as  long  as  I  live.  Mother  doesn't  want 
me  ever  to  be  unrespectable,  and  I  don't  want 
to  be  either ;  but  you  are  very  wicked  old  women. 
All  three  of  you." 

Without  further  ceremony  she  backed  out  on 
the  sidewalk,  where  she  put  on  her  gingham 
gown,  and  walked  off  haughtily  down  the  street. 
Her  air  was  the  air  of  a  conqueror,  although  the 
buttons  on  the  back  of  the  little  waist  flapped 
about  in  total  disregard  of  the  empty  button, 
holes.  The  terrified,  admiring  juniors  followed 
silently,  not  daring  to  offer  to  button  her  up. 
There  were  times  when  Rachel's  toilet  was  not 
to  be  criticised. 

They  walked  along.  It  was  warm  and  sunny. 
Almost  everybody  had  lilac  bushes  in  their  front 
yards,  and  the  air  was  sweet  with  their  perfume. 
As  they  turned  a  corner,  Molly  produced  from 
her  pocket  four  little  currant  cakes,  deliciously 
frosted.  Grandmother  had  given  them.  Grand- 
mother never  forgot  how  hungry  children  get 
between  meals. 

They  sat  down  on  some  carriage  steps  and 
nibbled  the  cakes.  It  was  a  point  of  breeding 
to  eat  off  the  bottoms  first,  to  pick  out  all  the 
currants  for  a  second  course,  and    to  save  the 


34   THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

frosting  for  dessert.  Boys,  of  course,  ate  theirs 
in  gulps  ;  but  this  was  the  accepted  procedure 
for  girls. 

Rachel  bit  savagely  into  her  cake,  forgetting 
the  rules,  and  eating  five  currants  in  the  first 
bite.  Then  she  remembered  her  manners.  The 
cake  had  a  very  good  and  softening  effect,  and 
by  the  time  she  had  carefully  licked  the  last 
grain  of  sugar  from  her  fingers,  she  was  at  peace 
with  all  mankind. 

"My  dress  is  going  to  be  lovely,"  she  an- 
nounced. "  I  always  admired  that  silk,  —  little 
green  threads  one  way,  little  pink  threads  the 
other,  —  so  you  can't  really  say  whether  it's 
pink  or  green.  Like  some  little  leaves.  It  doesn't 
rattle  much ;  but  when  I  wear  it  to  Church,  if  I 
scrape  up  close  to  the  pews,  I'll  bet  it'll  swish 
some.  I'm  going  to  keep  it  real  nice,  so  when 
you're  grown  up.  Daffy,  you  can  have  a  silk 
dress,  too.  Molly's  going  to  have  one  when  she's 
ten.  Hers  is  going  to  be  lovely,  too,  made  out 
of  Auntie's  blue-and-salmon.  I'll  tell  you  what 
let's  do.  Let's  be  real  fashionable  and  talk 
about  clothes.  I  will  tell  about  my  wedding 
dress." 

"Let    me   begin,"  pleaded   Molly.     "You  al- 


THE   NEW   GOWN  35 

ways  do,  and  by  the  time  you're  left  ofF,  there's 
nothing  left  for  us  to  choose." 

"  I'm  the  oldest,"  Rachel  began  the  time- 
honored  phrase,  but  suddenly  relented.  «  Betty, 
you  go  first,  you're  the  youngest." 

"My  dress  —  my  dress,"  said  Betty,  thought- 
fully. She  had  not  expected  to  be  called  on  so 
soon,  and  she  was  hardly  prepared.  "My  dress 
is  going  to  be  lovely,  too.  I'm  going  to  be  mar- 
ried in  a  black  silk  dress  that  can  stand  alone, 
trimmed  with  black  crape.  It's  going  to  be 
looped  up  with  pink  roses,  and  I  shall  have  a 
lace  parasol  and  a  silver  card-case,  and  a  long 
white  veil.     That's  all,"  she  concluded  suddenly. 

"  When  I'm  married,"  began  little  Daffy,  look- 
ing down,  "  I  shall  have  a  red  dress,  and  a  red 
hat  with  red  feathers,  and  little  red  gloves  and 
shoes,  and  a  set  of  furs  like  Mother's.  I  shall 
ride  to  church  on  my  new  red  sled,  and  Major 
shall  pull  it,  and  he  shall  have  a  red  ribbon  on 
his  collar,  and  everything  shall  be  pretty  and 
red." 

Molly  considered  more  seriously. 

"  I  like  white  brides  best,  so  I  shall  be  a  white 
bride.  Satin  for  my  gown,  with  the  longest  kind 
of  a  train,  and  perfectly  enormous  hoops.      It's 


36   THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

going  to  have  roses  all  over  it,  and  when  I  step 
out  of  the  carriage,  I  shall  step  so^  so  the  people 
can  see  my  white  slippers.  I'm  going  to  carry 
a  white  Prayer-Book,  and  —  " 

"Oh   my,   Molly,   your    Mother'd    never    let 
you!     'Piscobals  do  that.      You'd   better  leave 
that  out,  'cause  Grandfather'd  be  vexed  at  you 
if  you  ever  even  pretended  to  be  anything  but 
a   Presbyterian.     Daffy  and    I    could   be   more 
librul,  because  our  other  Grandpa  isn't  a  Pres- 
byterian   at    all.     He    goes   to    that   nice   little 
church  where   they  chant,  and  where  you  can 
walk  about,  if  you're  little,  and  sit  with  your 
different  relations.     We  nearly  always  go  there, 
so  if  we'd  said  we'd  carry  a  Prayer-Book,  we 
could,  or   even  a  rosary  like    Mary  Baily  does 
when  she  goes  to  Mass,  because  I've  heard  them 
say  what  a  librul  church  that  one  is.     I  shall 
carry  a  rosary,  now  I  think  of  it,  of  large  pearls 
and   diamonds,  and  all    the   kinds  of   precious 
stones  that  grew  in  Aladdin's  cave.     It  will  just 
suit  my  dress,  and  when  I  drop  it  in  my  agerta- 
tion,  and  my  lordly  bridegroom   restores  it  to 
me  with  a  low  bow,  I  mean  to  make  out  it's 
of  no  consequence,  so  everybody  will    see  how 
rich  and  librul  I  am.     I  shall  have  a  train  of 


THE   NEW   GOWN  37 

white  velvet  embroidered  with  gold  butterflies 
as  big  as  hens,  and  gilt  lace  on  my  sleeves,  and 
a  veil  and  a  bridal  crown.  I  shall  walk  50," 
she  illustrated,  swinging  her  brief  skirts  with 
great  elegance,  "  over  a  path  of  roses  and  lilies 
and  hollyhocks.  All  the  fountains  will  run 
with  wine,  and  money  will  be  scattered  in  the 
streets  —  " 

"There  aren't  any  fountains,"  interrupted 
DafFy,  the  downright.  "And  you  know  very 
well,  Rachel,  that  Father  isn't  going  to  throw 
money  in  the  streets." 

"  I  shall  ride  in  a  golden  coach,"  went  on 
Rachel,  expansively.  "  And  I  —  why  !  what's 
the  matter  ?     What  are  you  all  crying  about  ?  " 

"Oh,  Rachel,  your  things  are  so  much  finer 
than  ours  !  no  one  will  look  at  us  !  " 

"  Hush  instantly,  crying  in  the  street  as  if 
you  all  had  colic !  " 

"Yes,  but  —  Rachel  —  " 

"  Oh,  look  !  There  goes  a  red-painted  wagon 
that  just  must  belong  to  the  Show.  Don't  you 
see  the  man  in  uniform  throwing  off  bills  ? 
Don't  you  hear  the  horn  toot  ?  Take  Betty's 
hand,  Molly,  —  take  mine.  Daffy,  and  hold  fast! 
Run  as  hard  as  ever  your  legs'll  let  you.     Ain't 


38       THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

it  lucky  I  had  to  go  to  the  Miss  Tucker-Girls  to 
have  my  dress  fitted?  Tutu'd  never  have  let 
us  out  on  the  street ;  but  now  we  are  out,  it 
seems  as  if  it  was  our  duty  to  get  some  of  these 
lovely  pink  bills.     Run  ! " 


CHAPTER   III 

Boys  have  many  advantages  above  those 
vouchsafed  to  girls  —  so  many,  indeed,  that  it 
is  hardly  v^orth  while  to  begin  counting  them. 
Never,  however,  are  they  so  many  or  so  great 
as  on  Show  Days.  Perhaps  things  have  changed 
since  then ;  but  when  Rachel  was  ten,  nothing 
could  be  imagined  so  delightful  as  being  a  boy 
when  a  Circus  was  holding  in  the  Old  Orchard. 

The  excitement  began  at  least  a  fortnight 
before  the  great  day.  A  red  wagon  appeared  in 
the  streets.  Whence  ?  Out  of  the  skies,  prob- 
ably, for  surely  not  of  this  earth  was  that  red 
paint,  that  brilliant  gilding,  those  masterpieces 
of  art,  the  groups  of  animals  and  birds  depicted 
on  its  sides.  Not  of  earth  those  strong  piebald 
horses  decked  off  with  pompons  and  with  bells. 

The  wagon  was  driven  about  the  village,  stop- 
ping at  the  most  curious  places ;  at  the  ends  of 
factories  and    of   stables;   at   the  sides   of   old 

39 


40       THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

warehouses;  and  at  long  stretches  of  tight 
board-fences.  These  blossomed  as  the  rose  be- 
fore the  wagon  moved  on,  with  huge  posters 
presenting  a  foretaste  of  the  glories  that  should 
be,  —  prancing  steeds,  beautiful  flying  acrobats, 
and  snarling  lions  and  tigers  grouped  about  a 
trainer  to  whose  peril  that  of  Daniel  was  as 
nothing.  A  thousand  delights  were  spread  out 
on  the  posters.  The  date  of  the  Show  was 
printed  in  large  type,  and  the  name  of  the 
Village  received  immortal  honor  from  being 
associated  with  an  event  of  such  magnitude. 

Children  stood  in  rows  before  the  posters. 
They  made  pilgrimages  to  all  the  shrines  that 
they  might  miss  nothing  of  the  pictured  splen- 
dors. The  date  was  firmly  fixed  in  their  minds, 
and  they  asked  one  another  with  burning 
anxiety :  — 

«  Are  you  going  to  the  Show  ?  " 

Rachel  hated  being  asked.  She  was  almost  sure 
that  she  would  not  be  allowed  to  go ;  but  she  hated 
to  say  "  no "  outright.  It  seemed  not  only  to 
lower  her  social  standing,  but  to  give  a  final 
blow  to  her  feeble  hopes.     So  she  temporized: — 

« I  have  not  heard  Mother  say." 

Mother  had   some  very  strict  ideas.      When 


SHOW   DAY  41 

she  said  anything,  she  would  be  very  apt  to  say 
"  no  "  without  any  temporizing. 

The  Teachers  were,  it  was  true,  of  the  common 
order  of  teachers,  dull,  heartless,  and  unsympa- 
thetic ;  but  sometimes  they  were  almost  more 
than  human  in  their  understanding.  They  pre- 
tended not  to  see  the  chicken  feathers  tied 
together  with  strips  of  red  flannel  sticking  out 
of  the  boys'  pockets,  or  to  know  that  two  bands 
of  hostile  Indians  were  camped  in  the  school 
playground.  The  chicken  feathers  were  to  be 
tied  on  the  boys'  heads  when  they  went  out  on 
the  war-path,  and  it  was  then  that  they  would 
rub  their  faces  with  the  different  colored  chalks 
that  were  in  their  other  pockets.  They  really 
did  not  know  that  the  boys  had  knives  bor- 
rowed from  the  kitchen  dresser  buttoned  up 
inside  their  jackets;  if  they  had,  they  would 
have  taken  them  away.  This  would  have  been 
a  pain  to  the  boys. 

On  the  day  before  Show  Day  the  Teachers 
announced  that  there  would  be  no  school  on  the 
morrow.  Everybody  now  studied  as  hard  as 
ever  he  could,  and  recited  as  well  as  possible. 
Nobody  munched  apples  behind  his  geography ; 
nobody  made  faces   in    the  safe  shelter   of  her 


42   THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

slate ;  nobody  whispered.  When  school  was 
over,  everybody  went  out  quietly,  and  each  one 
bowed  politely  at  the  schoolroom  door.  They 
had  been  taught  to  turn  at  the  door,  and  to  bow 
to  the  Teacher,  and  to  the  remaining  pupils.  On 
other  days  they  merely  jerked  their  heads ;  on 
this  day  their  bows  were  really  courtly. 

The  children  all  went  to  bed  directly  supper 
was  over.  They  had  no  lessons  to  learn,  and 
they  were  ready  to  shorten  the  night  as  much  as 
might  be  by  sleep.  Tutu  took  them  to  their 
rooms  and  heard  them  say  "  Our  Father,"  and 
"  Now  I  lay  me,"  and  "  God  bless  everybody 
and  make  us  good  children,"  and  then  they  had 
climbed  into  their  soft,  comfortable  beds.  Tutu 
sat  beside  Daffy's  crib  next  to  the  open  door  of 
Dick's  room,  and  began  to  read  the  Chapter.  It 
was  Tutu's  hour  of  rest,  and  oftener  than  not 
the  Chapter  was  prolonged  into  a  whole  history. 
She  was  not  one  of  the  women  who  are  capable 
of  stopping  off  and  leaving  Joseph  in  the  pit,  or 
the  plagues  of  Egypt  only  half  finished,  just 
because  she  had  read  to  the  end  of  so  many 
verses.  She  read  the  story  straight  through, 
stopping  now  and  then  to  ask  if  anybody  had 
gone  to  sleep.     No  one  but  Daffy  ever  had  gone. 


SHOW   DAY  43 

In  that  way  Tutu  performed  her  own  devotions 
and  instructed  her  charges  in  Biblical  history  at 
the  same  time.  A  map  of  the  Holy  Land  hung 
above  Tutu's  bed.  Rachel  looked  at  it  while  she 
listened  to  the  stories.  She  was  a  large  girl 
before  she  knew  what  one  long,  strange  word 
on  the  map  meant  —  Mediterranean.  She  won- 
dered what  it  had  to  do  with  King  David  or  the 
Shunamite  Woman.  Something,  doubtless,  but 
she  never  thought  to  ask. 

Paul  had  come  to  spend  the  night  with  Dick, 
and  the  next  morning,  when  Tutu  came  to  call 
Rachel  and  Daffy,  both  boys  were  gone.  By 
what  means  those  sleepyheads  had  aroused 
themselves  nobody  knew ;  but  they  were  gone. 
Up  the  long,  pleasant  street  the  boys  had 
trudged,  out  into  the  country  lanes  where  the 
summer  morning  lay  dim,  still,  and  cool ;  out 
past  Grandpa's,  where  no  one  was  astir  but  the 
gentle  master  of  Linwood,  whose  fond  habit  it 
was  to  greet  the  dawn  with  his  grateful  praise 
for  the  gift  of  another  day.  The  house  looked 
strange  in  the  deep  shadow  of  the  giant  white 
pines,  and  it  was  yet  more  strange  to  go  past 
and  not  to  go  in. 

At  the  corner  of   the  road  the   caravan  was 


44       THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

turning.  Great  vans  were  there  that  held  the 
tent  canvas  and  the  seats ;  long  w^agons  piled 
with  poles  and  heaped  with  rope.  Other  vans 
with  trunks  and  boxes ;  other  wagons  filled  with 
the  impedimenta  of  the  recently  broken  camp. 
There  were  troops  of  led-horses ;  there  were 
dozens  of  gayly  painted  wagons  for  the  animals ; 
there  were  ponies  and  camels  and  elephants, 
and  a  silent,  clumsy  calliope,  and  oh !  there  was 
the  Golden  Chariot  for  the  band ! 

Other  boys  had  come  out  to  meet  the  show ; 
many  other  boys,  in  fact  every  boy  in  the  Village, 
had  come.  They  greeted  one  another  with  the 
blank  stare  of  boyhood.  There  was  one  thought 
that  animated  every  breast,  and  that  was  to  get 
as  near  as  possible  to  the  Golden  Chariot,  and  to 
walk  into  town  touching  its  glorious,  gilded  sur- 
face with  their  battered  little  hands.  What  was 
the  good  of  such  contact?  No  boy  knew,  but 
it  was  a  thing  greatly  to  be  desired. 

The  caravan  was  not  arranged  in  the  order  oi 
its  later  progress.  It  straggled  along  the  road 
in  the  most  slipshod  fashion.  The  horses  were 
ungroomed,  men  lay  asleep  on  the  wagons,  faces 
downward.  There  were  no  beautiful  young 
ladies  at  all,  only  some  ugly  old  women,  with 


SHOW    DAY  45 

tired  faces,  who  sat  listlessly  on  the  vans,  or 
rode  slouchingly  on  horseback.  Covers  were 
drawn  over  the  best  wagons,  still  one  knew 
from  the  strange  and  fearsome  somids  that  came 
from  under  them  that  wild  creatures  of  many 
strange  and  fearsome  kinds  were  hidden  under 
the  dusty  tarpauling.  The  boys  were  too  savage 
themselves  to  know  how  brutal  it  was  to  torture 
wild  things  with  captivity. 

The  elephants  were  turned  loose  in  a  pasture 
that  had  been  rented  for  their  use  near  the  town  ; 
so  were  the  horses :  so  were  the  camels.  To 
see  such  creatures  walking  about  in  a  clover 
patch,  or  the  pasture  where  the  big  boys  often 
played  ball,  was  bewildering.  Several  of  the 
little  boys  went  no  farther  than  the  Virginia 
fence  which  guarded  the  meadow.  They  climbed 
to  the  top  rail,  and  sat  there  spellbound. 

There  was  a  freshly  ploughed  ring  in  the  sod 
at  the  end  of  the  Old  Orchard,  and  there  was  not 
a  cow  in  sight.  Even  the  hookiest  of  the  Ger- 
man cows  failed  to  assert  her  rights  of  pasturage 
when  Show  Days  came. 

Around  the  ring,  wagons  were  drawn.  Men 
cooked  things  over  little  open-air  fires,  and  other 
men  ate  and  drank,  standing  about  or  leaning 


46       THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

against  wheels.  Then  they  unloaded  the  vans. 
There  was  first  a  mountain  of  canvas,  then  there 
were  stacks  of  poles  and  piles  of  ropes.  In  an 
incredibly  short  time  they  were  all  raised,  and 
pulled  and  guyed,  and  hammered  and  shifted  into 
tents  —  a  vast,  central  tent  and  a  number  of 
smaller  ones.  The  smaller  ones  were  for  the 
side-shows. 

A  great  deal  of  water  is  needed  by  a  Show. 
This  the  boys  knew,  and  they  knew  something 
else  as  well,  so  they  offered  to  fetch  water. 
Buckets  were  given  them,  and  they  went  to 
wells  in  yards  near  by  and  filled  the  buckets. 
Nobody  would  refuse  to  let  the  boys  get  the 
water  at  his  well  on  Show  Day,  although  he 
might,  very  properly,  have  objected  to  letting 
the  Show  men  do  so.  How  else  were  the  boys 
to  get  their  tickets  to  the  Show  ?  It  was  emi- 
nently the  thing  for  self-respecting  boys  to  earn 
their  tickets  thus,  even  if  they  had  more  than 
twenty-five  cents  in  their  banks.  Few  boys  had. 
So  they  carried  and  carried  the  water  until  they 
ached  from  head  to  foot,  and  their  legs  were 
soaking  wet  with  the  drops  that  had  splashed 
over.  Finally  they  had  carried  enough,  and  blue 
tickets  were  given  them,  —  "  Admit  one." 


SHOW  DAY  47 

It  was  past  eight  o'clock  when  Dick  got  home. 
Tutu  made  him  change  all  his  clothes  before  she 
gave  him  the  good  hot  breakfast  she  had  saved 
for  him.  His  dark  little  face  was  flushed,  his 
beautiful,  great  soft  eyes  glowed.  The  little 
sisters  gathered  close  to  the  end  of  the  table  at 
which  he  sat,  and  listened  breathlessly  to  his 
accounts.  Eleven  elephants !  It  was  not  to  be 
believed  !  Ponies  not  much  bigger  than  Major  ! 
It  was  incredible ! 

Rachel  and  Daffy  were  dressed  for  the  day, 
not  in  their  best  dresses,  but  in  very  pretty  light 
cotton  frocks.  Daffy  had  on  her  coral  beads. 
Rachel  had  lost  hers,  but  when  they  had  had 
their  photographs  taken  for  presents  to  the 
Grandparents,  she  privately  borrowed  Sophy 
Jane's  so  that  Daffy  might  not  seem  overdressed. 

Tutu  was  arranging  a  large  basket.  In  it  she 
was  putting  several  kinds  of  sewing,  with  the 
proper  sewing  things.  She  never  went  out  for 
a  day  of  idle  pleasure.  She  had,  also,  three 
lemon  pies  in  the  basket.  There  were,  it  is  true, 
plenty  of  pies  at  the  Old  House,  but  it  was  Tutu's 
idea  of  good  manners  to  take  things  along  for 
a  present  when  one  went  visiting.  The  Doctor's 
Wife  at  first  objected  to  this  practice ;  but  Tutu 


48       THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

was  much  older  than  she,  and  much  more  mas- 
terful, so  she  gave  over  objecting,  and  the  pies 
always  went  where  the  family  went.  They  were 
delicious  pies.  Tutu  made  them  before  break- 
fast. 

By  nine  o'clock  Sophy  Jane  and  Jimmy  ar- 
rived, and  the  Cousins,  and  a  large  contingent  of 
other  children.  Processions  always  passed  the 
Doctor's.  The  yard  was  large  and  shady,  and 
the  fence  was  admirably  adapted  to  perching 
purposes.  There  were  also  wooden  boxes  to 
guard  the  big  maple  trees  on  the  grass  strip  be- 
tween the  sidewalk  and  the  road,  and  a  large 
and  pleasant  carriage  block.  So  on  days  when 
there  were  parades  it  was  a  very  desirable  place 
to  go  to. 

The  children  chose  places.  The  girls  took  the 
carriage  block,  the  boys  the  tree-boxes.  Sophy 
Jane  and  Rachel  wished  for  tree-boxes  also,  but 
this  Tutu  forbade.  She  said  their  clothes  were 
whole  for  once,  and  she  had  no  idea  of  sewing 
up  slits  on  Show  Day,  —  so  they  stood  on  the 
carriage  block. 

Farmers  had  been  coming  into  town  since  very 
early.  If  their  horses  were  safe  horses,  they  were 
tied  to  posts  along  the  streets ;  if  they  were  not 


SHOW  DAY  49 

safe,  they  were  unharnessed  and  led  away  to 
stables.  The  farmers'  wives  and  daughters 
called  on  people  whom  they  knew.  A  great 
many  of  the  Doctor's  patients  had  already  ar- 
rived to  enjoy  his  porch.  Mary  Baily  had  placed 
all  the  dining-room  chairs  out  on  the  lawn. 

Then  the  Germans  from  the  Addition  came 
down.  They  brought  all  their  children.  One 
would  hardly  have  believed  that  there  were  so 
many  children  in  the  world.  They  sat  on  the 
Church  steps,  on  the  stones  at  the  Stone-cutter's 
—  anywhere. 

The  Grandparents  and  all  the  relatives  who 
lived  in  the  country  arrived.  The  little  girls  got 
off  the  block  as  each  carriage  drove  up.  Grandpa 
had  brought  a  basketful  of  big  hickory  nuts  ex- 
pressly for  the  children.  Dick  came  down  from 
the  tree-box  to  count  them  out.  Paul  and  Jim 
came  down  to  get  their  share.  The  shares  were 
always  exactly  alike  when  Dick  counted.  He 
was  a  just  boy. 

The  wind  was  from  the  west,  and  blew  faintly 
and  fitfully  ;  but  by  and  by  one  could  really  hear 
the  drum,  —  not  plainly,  —  but  still  really.  Then 
the  tune  could  be  distinguished. 

Then  the  procession  turned  into  Main  Street 

B 


60   THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

at  the  corner  of  the  grove.  There  was  no  longer 
any  cause  for  doubts  and  tremors ;  there  would 
certainly  be  a  procession. 

First  there  came  a  large  man  on  a  white 
horse.  He  backed  the  horse  all  the  way  down 
the  street,  and  shouted,  and  waved  his  hand 
mysteriously  to  the  people  of  the  Show.  Prob- 
ably he  owned  the  Show. 

Then  came  the  Indians,  feathers,  moccasins, 
bows  and  arrows,  scalping-knives,  war  paint  and 
all.  They  did  not  look  at  the  boys,  but  the  boys 
were  dumb  with  the  rapture  of  looking  at  them. 

Then  came  the  horsemen  and  horsewomen. 
What  beautiful  and  gracious  ladies !  What 
proud  and  handsome  cavaliers  !  What  plumes 
and  saddle-cloths  !  What  life  could  exceed  theirs 
for  splendor  and  charm  ? 

Then  came  the  camels.  Then  the  open  cages 
with  the  lions,  like  large,  sleepy  cats.  Here,  in 
another  cage,  sat  a  woman  of  peerless  loveliness 
surrounded  by  the  folds  of  mighty  serpents. 
Here  were  wagons  and  wagons  adorned  with 
scenes  from  Scripture.  The  children  knew  what 
nearly  all  of  them  meant  from  the  bedtime 
Chapters.  On  one  sat  a  red-and-white  clown, 
nodding    and    grinning   and   making    grotesque 


SHOW  DAY  61 

faces.  Now  the  elephants  were  coming.  Yes ; 
there  were  actually  eleven !  Then  the  ponies ; 
yes;  Major  was  almost  as  big  as  they!  Then 
into  every  ear  went  a  finger  as  the  calliope  thun- 
dered by,  screeching  out  its  pretexts  for  tunes, 
and  then,  after  many  other  splendid  and  wonder- 
ful sights,  the  Golden  Chariot  holding  the  scarlet 
bandsmen  playing  away  for  dear  life.  Dozens 
of  boys  walked  proudly  beside  the  Chariot,  touch- 
ing it  with  their  hands.  It  was  a  marvel  that 
none  of  them  were  run  over,  but  none  were. 

Young  men  from  the  country,  driving  with 
their  sweethearts  in  smart  top  buggies,  followed 
the  Golden  Chariot,  and  then  the  parade  was 
over. 

Tutu  marshalled  the  children  and  set  forth 
with  the  basket  over  her  arm.  Some  of  the 
country  relations  said  that  they  might  spend  the 
day  as  well  as  not,  now  they  were  in  town,  but 
Mary  Baily  would  get  the  dinner.  There  were 
plenty  of  lemon  pies  left.  Tutu  made  the 
children  walk  before  her  so  that  she  could  count 
them  now  and  then,  and  she  took  them  by  the 
Longest  Way,  and  so  avoided  what  most  they 
wished  to  see,  —  the  crowd  already  gathered  in 
the  Orchard, 


52       THE   DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

Dick  and  Paul  ate  but  little  dinner.  They 
were  so  afraid  of  being  late.  The  Show  would 
not  begin  until  two  o'clock,  and  the  gate-keeper 
had  told  them  that  the  tents  would  not  be  open 
to  the  public  until  quarter-past  one.  Dinner  was 
at  twelve  o'clock  on  purpose;  but  the  boys 
thought  it  wise  to  carry  their  pie  in  their  hands 
and  eat  it  out  on  the  Common.  Grandmother 
gave  each  one  a  pocketful  of  little  sugar  cakes, 
in  case  of  an  emergency.  One  of  the  Aunts  had 
an  orange  apiece  for  the  children,  and  another 
treated  to  five  cents  all  around.  Everything 
was  as  it  should  be. 

The  little  girls  were  not  to  go  to  the  Show. 
They  greatly  wished  to  do  so,  but  it  was  not 
considered  best  that  they  should.  Lucy  went 
by,  and  so  did  the  Warrenders.  Rachel  lost  her 
temper  and  stamped  her  foot.  She  said  it  was 
a  shame  that  she  could  not  go  also  —  a  burning 
shame.  Then  she  began  to  cry.  Then  she  left 
off  crying  and  stopped  being  disagreeable. 

Grandfather  did  a  very  unexpected  thing. 
No  one  supposed  that  he  had  noticed  that  it  was 
Show  Day ;  but  now  he  laid  down  the  Commen- 
tary on  the  Bible  in  which  he  was  reading  about 
the  Prophet  Ezekiel,  and  said  that  if  the  little 


SHOW   DAY  63 

girls  liked,  he  would  take  them  out  for  a  walk 
on  the  Show-grounds.  He  took  off  his  spectacles, 
and  he  took  up  his  hat,  and  then  he  was  ready 
to  set  forth. 

It  was  decided  that  he  should  take  only  two 
at  a  time.  The  Aunts  feared  that  he  might  get 
to  thinking  about  Ezekiel  and  forget  how  many 
children  he  had  started  out  with ;  so  it  was 
thought  better  for  him  to  take  two  walks,  and 
only  as  many  children  at  a  time  as  could  hold 
fast  to  his  hands.  He  took  the  smaller  ones 
first.  They  came  back,  after  a  very  long  while, 
speechless  with  wonder  and  with  joy. 

Rachel  and  Molly  now  took  his  hands  and 
they  went  off  in  the  direction  of  the  main 
tent.  People  were  going  in,  some  paid  at  the 
door,  and  some  held  out  tickets  already  pur- 
chased :  red  for  Grown-ups ;  blue  for  children. 
A  great  many  people  were  going  in.  It  certainly 
would  be  crowded  in  the  tent. 

The  band  was  playing,  not  music  one  knew, 
but  a  low,  alluring  marking  of  time  :  now  softer, 
now  louder,  but  always  in  minor  tones.  Dif- 
ferent kinds  of  music  came  from  the  smaller 
tents.     One  held  one's  breath. 

Boys  were  prowling    about,  waiting  to  hook 


64       THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

in.  Some  of  them  had  already  found  an  oppor- 
tunity to  do  so,  and  were  wriggling  in  under  the 
canvas,  on  their  stomachs.  Their  legs  stuck  out 
so  far  it  was  a  wonder  they  were  not  pulled 
back.  Some  of  the  Show  men  were  laughing  at 
the  boys.  It  showed  what  very  nice  men  they 
were,  that  they  did  not  prevent  the  boys  from 
hooking  in. 

Behind  the  tents,  horses  that  were  not  per- 
forming horses  ate  out  of  troughs,  and  drank  the 
water  the  boys  had  fetched.  Some  men,  not  on 
duty,  lay  on  the  dusty  grass  and  slept.  Some 
had  their  hats  pulled  over  their  eyes.  One  man 
lay  with  his  face  bared  to  the  skies.  His  hair 
curled  a  little  over  his  forehead.  Any  one  would 
have  felt  sorry  for  him,  he  looked  so  young  and 
so  sad. 

In  front  of  the  side-shows  stood  men  who 
were  talking  faster  than  would  have  been 
thought  possible  for  any  one  to  talk.  They  were 
telling  about  what  could  be  seen  within,  and 
coaxing  people  to  enter.  Pictures  of  the  things 
to  be  seen  for  five  cents  or  ten  cents  hung  beside 
the  tents.  A  giant,  a  dwarf,  a  fat  woman,  an 
educated  pig,  a  five-legged  calf,  and  the  Wild 
Man  from  Borneo.     There  was  an  awful  picture 


SHOW   DAY  55 

of  this  wild-eyed  man.  In  his  hairy  hand  he 
held  the  stump  of  the  leg  of  a  sailor.  He  had 
eaten  the  rest  of  the  sailor,  one  inferred,  since  all 
that  was  left  was  the  shoe  by  which  he  held 
the  half-devoured  leg  on  which  there  was  even 
yet  a  good  deal  of  sailor-looking  trouser,  and 
the  flesh  and  bone  that  showed  red  and  white, 
at  the  trouser  top.  It  was  only  five  cents  to 
see  the  Wild  Man,  and  both  Rachel  and  Molly 
desired  to  spend  the  gratuity  of  the  Aunt  in 
looking  at  him.  Grandfather  reminded,  no 
doubt,  of  the  Prophet  Ezekiel  by  the  sight  of 
the  bone  said  "  no  "  ;  he  was  tired,  and  they  had 
seen  enough.     So  he  took  them  home. 

The  afternoon  performance  was  over.  People 
came  out  of  the  tent,  —  crowds  of  people.  They 
did  not  look  so  fresh  as  when  they  went  in. 
The  Warrenders  were  really  snappish  when 
Rachel  asked  them  if  it  had  been  a  good  show ; 
they  were  too  tired  to  be  friendly.  Lucy  said  it 
was  very  good,  but  that  she  would  have  seen 
more  had  she  not  been  compelled  to  sit  behind  a 
fat  woman  with  a  very  large  hat.  She  had  lost 
a  good  deal  of  the  trapeze  things,  and  the  jump- 
ings  of  the  Queen  of  the  Ring.  She  bore  her 
misfortunes  very  well,  better,  perhaps,  than  she 


56       THE   DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

would  have  done  if  her  seat  had  not  been  so 
close  to  the  monkey-cage. 

Dick  and  Paul  came  home.  They  all  but  had 
"  cricks "  in  their  necks  from  trying  to  look 
everywhere  at  once.  Paul  had  a  headache. 
They  had  spent  their  five-cent  pieces  for  pink 
lemonade,  and  Paul's  had  not  agreed  with  him. 

Tutu  put  all  her  different  pieces  of  work  into 
her  basket.  She  had  sewed  a  little  on  each 
piece,  and  felt  that  she  had  spent  a  profitable 
day.  She  also  put  in  the  empty  pie-plates.  Shft 
then  put  Daffy's  hat  on. 

Rachel  begged  to  stay  over  night. 

«  Oh,  do  !  "  cried  Betty  and  Molly. 

"Yes,  Tutu,  let  the  child  stay,"  said  Grand- 
mother and  the  Aunts.  So  permission  was 
given. 

Rachel  looked  after  Dick  and  Daffy  with 
some  regret.  It  seemed  as  if  they  might  be 
going  away  to  a  far  country,  and  that  it  might 
be  years  before  they  met. 

"  Give  my  love  to  Father  and  Mother,"  she 
called  after  them. 

They  played  in  the  garden  for  a  while.  They 
dragged  the  sawhorse  out  of  the  woodshed,  and 
impersonated  the  Queen  of  the  Ring  by  turns. 


SHOW  DAY  67 

While  one  child  rode  thereon  the  others  pranced 
about  astride  of  sticks.  Rachel  then  wound  a 
towel  around  another  stick,  and  played  at  being 
the  Wild  Man  from  Borneo  with  such  ferocity 
and  fervor  that  Betty  was  frightened  half  out  of 
her  life.     Then  it  was  supper-time. 

On  Thursday  night  everybody  who  could  go 
always  went  to  Prayer-meeting.  Grandfather 
always  went,  and  made  the  second  prayer.  In 
it  he  asked  God  so  fervently  that  his  sins  might 
be  blotted  out,  that  the  children  could  not  help 
wondering  what  he  had  done  that  was  so  bad. 
His  was,  however,  a  truly  pious  soul,  and  his 
prayers  were  the  trustful  speakings  of  a  good 
man  with  his  Best  Friend. 

The  Aunts  were  going  also.  Grandmother 
was  to  stay  at  home  and  see  that  all  went  well. 
As  the  day  had  begun  so  early,  it  was  decided  to 
put  the  children  to  bed  before  the  ladies  went  out. 

PauPs  head  ached  very  much.  The  door  of 
his  room  usually  stood  open,  and  when  Rachel 
stayed  over  night,  it  was  he  who  usually  begged 
hardest  for  one  of  her  stories,  but  to-night  the 
door  was  closed.  Rachel  had  a  good  memory,  and 
from  a  constant  study  of  The  Norse  Tales,  The 
Arahicm  Nights,  Miss  Mulock's  Fairy  Booh,  and 


58   THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

Mr.  Wind  and  Madame  Bain  she  had  a  large 
and  delightful  rS^ertoire  of  stories.  The  best 
time  for  stories  is,  as  every  one  knows,  after  one 
has  gone  to  bed ;  but  to-night,  as  Paul  did  not 
even  w^ish  to  hear  about  The  Master  Thief,  she 
told  it  in  whispers,  so  that  he  should  not  be 
kept  awake  by  her  voice.  Molly  dropped  asleep 
before  the  story  was  ended,  and  after  Betty  had 
asked  a  few  questions,  why  this,  and  why  not 
that,  she  followed  her  into  Dreamland. 

It  was  not  yet  dark.  The  second  perform- 
ance of  the  Circus  was  about  to  begin.  Peo- 
ple were  passing  on  the  street  under  the 
window.  The  music  began  again.  Rachel 
knew  nothing  of  the  evil  of  the  great  world,  but 
it  seemed  as  if  something  strange  and  uncanny 
lurked  behind  that  palpitating,  alluring,  com- 
pelling breathing  of  those  low-voiced  wind  in- 
struments. Hers  was  a  sensitive  soul,  and  she 
felt  ill  at  ease,  she  knew  not  why. 

She  grew  more  and  more  wretched,  and  the 
safe  shelter  of  dear  Mother's  arms  seemed  far, 
far  away.  Why  had  she  forsaken  the  sweet 
home  nest  ?  What  if  something  dreadful  should 
befall  in  the  night,  and  she  should  never  see  her 
loved  ones  again  ? 


SHOW   DAY  59 

She  thought  of  her  sins.  How  many  and 
how  black  they  were!  Only  this  morning  she 
had  jerked  her  head  angrily  when  Mother  her- 
self had  brushed  the  snarls  from  her  hair.  Only 
this  afternoon  she  had  stamped  her  foot,  and 
cried  with  rage,  because  she  could  not  go  to  the 
Show.  It  was  all  very  well  to  say  that  if  any 
one  was  honestly  sorry  for  being  bad  and  asked 
the  Heavenly  Father  to  forgive  He  would  do  it. 
What  Rachel's  subjective  little  heart  wanted 
was  the  comforting  and  forgiveness  of  the 
earthly  mother. 

She  sat  up  in  bed.  The  music  panted  and 
coaxed.  Nobody  was  awake.  She  could  bear 
it  no  longer. 

She  slipped  quickly  into  her  clothes.  She 
took  her  shoes  in  her  hand,  and  ran  lightly 
down  the  stair.  Grandmother  was  a  little  deaf, 
so  she  did  not  hear  the  soft  turning  of  the  front 
door  key,  or  the  gentle  closing  of  the  front  door 
itself,  or  the  slow  click  of  the  gate  latch. 

The  little  child  who  had  never  been  alone 
with  the  night  before  was  alone  now. 

She  dared  not  venture  across  the  Old  Orchard, 
where,  beside  the  lighted  tents,  many  oil  lamps 
flared.     What   if   kidnappers  should   be  about, 


60       THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

and  she  should  be  seized  and  flung  into  one  of 
the  dark  wagons?  O  dear  Lord,  help  a  little 
girl  to  get  home  in  safety  to  her  mother ! 

Her  feet  flew  over  the  walks  of  the  Longest 
Way.  Evil  might  be  around  her ;  evil  was,  but 
none  happened  to  her.  The  Guardian  Angels 
saw  to  that. 

At  last  she  stood  before  the  door  of  Oak 
House,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  rang 
its  bell. 

The  Doctor  was  out  on  one  of  the  errands  of 
mercy  that  filled  his  life.  Mary  Baily  had  gone 
to  vespers,  and  Tutu  was  in  Prayer-meeting. 
The  Doctor's  Wife  opened  the  door. 

«  Why,  Rachel !  what  in  the  world  is  this  ?  " 
she  exclaimed. 

"  I  couldn't  stay  away  from  you  any  longer. 
Mother,"  sobbed  the  child,  throwing  herself  into 
the  never  failing  arms.  "  I  was  afraid  you  would 
die  in  the  night,  and  then  you  would  never  know 
how  much  I  love  you,  and  how  sorry  I  am  that 
I  was  so  bad.  It  did  hurt  to  have  the  snarls 
taken  out  of  my  hair,  but  I  needn't  have  been 
so  hateful." 

After  Prayer-meeting,  the  Aunts  went  up  to 
look  at  the  children.     There  was  the  dent  in  the 


SHOW   DAY  61 

pillow  where  Rachel's  head  had  been,  but  there 
was  no  Rachel.  The  Aunts  were  dumb  with  hor- 
ror.    What  if  — ? 

The  Eldest  Aunt  was  very  matter-of-fact. 

"  She  has  run  away,  that  is  all,  and  is  safe  in 
her  own  bed.  Of  course,  tired  as  we  are,  we 
must  go  down  to  Brother's  and  see.  I  do  hope 
it's  the  last  time  that  naughty  child  will  ever  be 
allowed  to  stay  here  all  night.  Even  in  daytime 
she  is  more  than  I  can  manage." 

Yes,  Rachel  was  safe  in  her  own  bed.  Her 
arms  were  tossed  above  her  head,  and  her  face, 
rosy  with  sleep,  was  the  face  of  a  thoughtful 
little  angel. 

"  Nobody  would  believe  she  could  be  so  much 
trouble  when  she  is  awake,"  said  the  Eldest  Aunt. 


CHAPTER  IV 
flpto  tlTimlotD 

Now  there  are  only  strangers  in  the  Village ; 
but  then  it  was  but  rarely  that  one  appeared, 
and  it  was  a  great  day  for  Rachel  when  Fate 
wafted  thither  a  being  beauteous  named  Tim- 
low —  Miss  Timlow. 

Whence  came  she  ?  Rachel  never  thought  to 
ask.  Like  some  splendid  planet,  some  veri- 
table Venus,  she  appeared,  and  straightway  the 
mind  of  the  little  girl  was  filled  with  joyous 
excitement  by  day,  and  with  whirling  dreams 
by  night,  in  which  there  was  but  one  figure, 
so  very,  very  beautiful  were  Miss  Timlow  and 
her  clothes. 

Miss  Timlow  had  come  to  be  a  teacher  in  the 
Free  School,  and  Rachel  longed  to  become  a 
pupil  there.  Prejudiced  but  powerful  elders 
decreed  that  this  was  not  to  be,  so  it  was  only 
on  Sundays,  and  by  altering  her  own  habits  on 
that  day,  that  Rachel  could  be  absolutely  sure  of 
seeing   her  idol.      Miss  Timlow   was  a   devout 

62 


MISS   TIMLOW  63 

church-goer,  and,  arrayed  as  Solomon  never 
dreamed  of  being,  and  escorted  by  the  young 
man  to  whom  she  was  engaged  to  be  married, 
she  flooded  the  plain  sanctuary  with  a  glory  it 
had  never  known  before.     It  was  wonderful ! 

Miss  Timlow's  lover  was  a  tailor.  His  clothes 
were  fine  and  gay.  His  hair,  worn  very  long, 
curled  over  his  white  collar,  and  was  scented 
with  the  most  delicious  hair-oil.  Of  that  Rachel 
was  sure,  for  she  smelled  it  distinctly  at  the 
Sunday-school  picnic  where  he  was  in  attend- 
ance upon  the  fair  object  of  their  common  devo- 
tion. None  of  the  men  whom  Rachel  knew  used 
hair-oil,  so  it  was  evident  that  he  must  be  a 
very  superior  person.  His  teeth  were  of  a  daz- 
zling whiteness,  and  he  showed  them  persistently. 
He  was  a  truly  beautiful  young  man,  and  quite 
worthy  to  walk  beside  the  glorious  Timlow  when 
she  went  to  Church  of  a  Sunday  morning. 

Rachel  became  suddenly  devout.  She  missed 
no  service.  She  gave  over  making  faces  at 
Lucy ;  she  stopped  asking  the  Doctor  how  soon 
the  sermon  would  be  over,  —  the  sermon  that 
could  not  not  now  be  too  long,  since  she  could 
spend  all  the  time  it  lasted  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  Miss  Timlow. 


54       THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

It  was  not  a  very  exciting  Church.  The 
singers  sat  in  a  gallery  over  the  doors,  and  one 
could  not,  with  propriety,  watch  their  various 
movements.  The  Pastor  stood  or  sat  on  a  high 
platform  in  front.  He  was  a  very  learned  and 
godly  man,  but  did  not  seem  to  know  that  the 
little  ones  are  as  much  a  part  of  the  church  as 
are  the  ruling  elders,  and  while  he  gave  the 
strong  men  the  strong  meat  they  needed  — 
never  thought  of  holding  forth  a  little  cup 
of  the  Milk  of  the  Word  to  the  babes  of  the 
fold.  If  one  were  small  and  restless,  there- 
fore, after  one  had  watched  the  families  enter 
quietly,  and  take  their  seats  in  the  pews ;  after 
one  had  noted  the  various  changes  made  by  Fall 
or  Spring  upon  the  bonnets  and  wraps  of  the 
ladies,  there  was  nothing  to  do  until  the  next 
turn  of  the  seasons  but  to  watch  certain  pen- 
dants on  the  chandeliers,  and  to  calculate  through 
which  heads  of  the  worshippers  below  they 
would  pierce  in  case  of  an  earthquake,  and  the 
consequent  falling  of  the  great  gas-fixtures.  One 
fat  man,  with  a  bald  head,  sat  directly  under  the 
largest  iron  icicle-looking  point,  and  would,  be- 
yond question,  be  the  first  victim.  He  slept  all 
through  the    sermons.     How  dared    he  ?     Why 


MISS   TIMLOW  65 

was  he  not  awake,  and  praying  to  be  delivered 
from  the  Bad  Man,  who  would  certainly  get  him 
if  he  died  sleeping  in  Church.  Rachel  sat  with 
thrills  of  horror  creeping  up  her  spine,  waiting 
for  the  catastrophe  which  never  came. 

After  the  advent  of  Miss  Timlow,  she  gave 
over  imagining  the  fat  man  as  pinned  to  his 
pew  by  the  overhanging  spike,  and  noted  only 
the  perfections  of  the  beauty,  to  whom,  luckily, 
a  seat  in  a  front  pew  was  assigned.  She  w^as 
large  and  buxom,  was  Miss  Timlow.  Roses 
of  the  richest  crimson  bloomed  upon  her  cheeks. 
Her  bright  eyes  glittered  under  dark,  meeting 
brows,  and  on  her  red,  red  lips  a  smile  of  con- 
scious pride  rested.  Her  hoops  were  of  a  size 
not  attained  by  the  modest  crinoline  of  the 
ladies  Rachel  knew,  and  as  she  swept  along  on 
her  French-heeled  shoes,  petticoats  heavy  with 
lace  showed  themselves.  Around  her  neck  were 
ruches,  collars,  ribbons,  chains,  upon  her  breast 
were  laces,  lappets,  bugles,  brooches.  In  her 
hair  were  combs,  pins,  puffs,  curls,  and  crimps.  It 
was  in  her  bonnets  that  she  was,  however,  above 
all  mortals,  splendid.  What  velvets  and  plumes  ! 
What  blondes  and  laces !  What  ribbons  and 
flowers  and  glorious,  shining,  twinkling  things ! 


66       THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

The  world  and  the  flesh  in  their  most  enticing 
form  flaunted  themselves  in  the  eyes  of  the  little 
maiden,  and  at  last  the  other  member  of  the 
famous  trio  began  to  whisper  things  that  made 
her  of  all  creatures  the  most  miserable. 

The  singers  sang  the  solemn  hymns.  The 
Pastor  said  the  short  prayer,  and  the  long 
prayer,  and  preached  the  yet  longer  sermon. 
Then  certain  highly  favored  citizens  arose  and 
passed  the  plates  for  the  collection,  walking 
gravely  up  one  aisle  and  down  the  next.  Ra- 
chel quite  forgot  that  it  was  her  Sunday  to 
stand  at  the  pew  door  and  drop  the  Doctor's 
contribution  into  the  alms-basin,  and  she  did  not 
even  notice  that  Dick  had  taken  her  place.  She 
hardly  knew  when  the  doxology  was  sung,  or 
when  the  heads  were  reverently  bowed  to 
receive  the  good  man's  blessing  before  the 
worshippers  were  free  to  turn  their  faces  home- 
ward with  that  cheerful  sense  of  duty  well 
done  which  always  accompanies  the  end  of  a 
sermon. 

"  Come,  Rachel,"  said  her  mother,  taking  the 
hot  little  palm  in  her  own  cool  one.  "  You  may 
tell  Miss  Sarah  that  you  will  not  be  in  School 
this    afternoon,    for   we   are   all    going    out    to 


MISS   TIMLOW  67 

Grandpa's  for  dinner.  Why,  what  is  the  matter, 
child  ?     Are  you  ill  ?  " 

No'm,  Rachel  was  not  ill.  Yes'm,  she  wanted 
to  go  to  Grandpa's,  but  mightn't  she  sit  next  dear 
Mother  on  the  back  seat,  and  not  with  Father  on 
the  front  one  ?  Let  Dick  help  drive ;  she  did 
not  care  if  it  was  her  Sunday  to  do  so. 

"  The  child  is  certainly  ill,"  said  the  Doctor's 
Wife.     "  I  never  saw  her  so  quiet  before." 

It  was  not  an  ill  that  any  of  the  drugs  the 
Doctor  knew  could  cure.  To  a  mind  diseased, 
who  can  minister  ? 

The  days  dragged  slowly  on.  There  was  no 
joy  in  any  of  the  schemes  that  Dick  proposed  or 
that  Daffy  devised.  There  was  no  charm  in 
any  of  the  games  that  Sophy  Jane  invented. 
There  was  no  balm  in  the  books  she  loved  much, 
in  the  flowers  she  loved  more,  or  in  the  tender- 
ness of  the  parents  she  loved  most  of  all.  A 
weary,  drooping  little  figure  was  hers,  listless  and 
heavy-eyed,  dogged  by  the  haunting  evil  who 
had  suggested  the  horror  from  which  there 
seemed  no  escape.  In  her  blind,  dim  way  poor 
Rachel  tried  to  pray  for  help,  but  she  felt  that 
to  sin  this  but  added  sacrilege,  and  so  forbore. 

The    next    Sunday    was,  if   anything,   worse. 


68       THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

Louder  and  louder  whispered  the  mocking  evil, 
blacker  and  blacker  grew  her  sin.  Miss  Timlow, 
all  unconscious,  had  donned  a  new  bonnet. 
Tulle !  with  roses  1  Glass  drops  like  diamonds 
hung  from  the  rosy  petals,  and  dripped  over  the 
puffs  of  lace  that  surmounted  the  puffs  of  hair. 
Wide  strings,  like  films  of  dew-gemmed  cobwebs, 
disposed  themselves  under  her  chin ;  and  over 
her  crimson  cheeks  her  eyes  glanced  about 
proudly  as  the  beautiful  tailor  waved  a  large 
pink  feather  fan  to  and  fro  for  her  refreshment. 
Never  before  had  she  been  so  splendid.  It  was 
terrible. 

Monday,  Tuesday,  Wednesday,  Thursday.  It 
could  be  borne  no  longer. 

The  bells  rang  out  for  Prayer-meeting  —  Ding- 
dong  !    Ding-dong  !    Ding-dong  ! 

Tutu  was  beginning  preparations  pointing 
bedward.  The  Doctor's  Wife  was  tying  on  her 
week-day  bonnet. 

"  Mother,  may  I  go  with  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not !  "  cried  Tutu.  "  I  never  heard 
of  such  a  thing  1 " 

"  Why  do  you  wish  to  go,  dear  ?  You  will 
get  sleepy." 

«  Oh,  Mother,  let  me  go  !  ** 


MISS   TIMLOW  69 

"Just  this  once,  Tutu,"  pleaded  the  second 
in  command.  "  The  little  thing  has  been  so 
strange  lately  I   do  not  like  to  deny  her." 

So  they  fared  out  into  the  twilight,  hand  in 
hand,  and  presently  were  in  the  dimly  lighted 
basement  of  the  Church  where  Prayer-meeting 
was  holding.  The  lights  flared,  but  there  were 
not  enough  of  them  to  brighten  the  dark  corners 
under  the  great  beams  which  upheld  the  floor  of 
the  room  above.  There  was  a  point  of  color  in 
the  red  cushion  on  which  the  Word  lay.  The 
men  and  women  who  had  assembled  for  th^ 
grave  worship  sang  a  few  hymns,  and  the  older 
men  prayed,  not,  one  would  have  thought,  to  a 
loving  Father,  who  knew  all  the  frailties  of  their 
dust,  and  who  was  love  and  mercy  and  tender- 
est  pity,  but  to  a  great  dread  Judge  and  Sover- 
eign, a  jealous  God,  ever  watchful  to  mark  the 
secret  sin  of  thought,  ever  ready  to  punish  and 
avenge.  Far,  far  better  than  their  stern  creed 
were  those  good  men,  good  husbands,  good  fa- 
thers, good  citizens,  who  poured  out  their  peti- 
tions in  the  dusky  basement  on  that  warm  May 
night. 

Each  word  fell  like  a  blow  upon  the  tender 
little  heart  that  ached  in  Rachel's   breast.     If 


70       THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

God  were  so  fierce  and  grim,  what  hope  could 
there  be,  here  or  hereafter,  for  such  a  sinner  as 
she  ?  Perhaps  her  heart  was  hardened  as 
Pharaoh's  had  been,  and  there  would  be  for 
her  only  a  long  life  tormented  by  plagues,  and 
an  awful  cataclysmal  death !  She  could  bear 
it  no  longer.  She  would  be  firm  in  her  resolve 
to  confess. 

The  door  opened.  In  came  the  smiling  tailor, 
wafting  musky  odors,  and  —  woe  unutterable  !  — 
in  came  Miss  Timlow,  more  beautiful  than  ever 
before,  in  a  black  gown  trimmed  with  much 
red,  and  with  a  red  bow  in  a  hat  of  the  most 
astounding  coquettishness. 

Surely  God  had  forgotten  Rachel ! 

It  was  over  at  last.  The  Doctor's  Wife  waited 
for  Sophy  Jane's  parents.  Now  that  they  had 
confessed  themselves  to  be  vile  worms  and  mis- 
erable sinners,  they  and  the  Pastor  and  every- 
body else  were  cheerful  human  beings  once 
more,  who  would  wrong  no  man  by  word  or 
deed,  and  who  found  their  little  corner  of  the 
great  world  a  most  pleasant  place  to  dwell  in. 
In  friendly  converse  they  stopped  a  moment  at 
the  corner,  and  then  dispersed  through  the  quiet 
streets,  where  the  moonlight  lay  in  great  floods 


MISS   TIMLOW  71 

of  silver,  painting  the  shadows  of  the  maples  in 
wide  washes  of  gray  and  black. 

Rachel  held  tightly  to  her  mother's  hand. 
Every  step  was  bringing  the  fatal  moment 
nearer,  and  in  the  wild  whirl  of  her  pain  she 
could  hardly  wait  until  they  should  be  alone. 
At  last,  the  last  neighbor  had  said  «  good  night." 

*' Mother  —  "  the  little  voice  began. 

"Yes,  Rachel." 

"  Mother,  I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

"  Yes,  dear.     Mother  is  listening." 

"  But  it  is  very  awful." 

«  Oh !  I  hope  not.  But  even  if  it  is.  Mother 
is  the  best  one  to  tell  it  to." 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  can.  It  is  so  very  bad. 
Worse  than  anything  you  ever  heard  of." 

"  Go  on,  dear." 

"  It  is  so  bad  that  I  know  you  can  never  love 
me  any  more ;  but,  oh,  Mother,  I  cannot  help  it." 

"Nothing  can  ever  make  me  stop  loving  my 
own  little  daughter.    What  is  this  awful  thing  ?  " 

"  Oh,  how  can  I  tell  it  ?  I  am  so  ashamed  ! 
I  prayed  to  God,  but  He  did  not  help  me.  I 
could  not  help  myself  —  indeed  I  could  not." 

"  My  child,  you  alarm  me  !  " 

"  It  will  be  worse  than  alarm  when  you  hear. 


72   THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

You  will  never  be  able  to  forgive  me.  Maybe 
I'll  have  to  go  av^ay  and  earn  my  own  living, — 
or  beg." 

"  Oh,  no,  Rachel.     Go  on." 

"Mother!  Mother!  I  cannot  help  it,  but, 
dearest  Mother,  I  do  think  Miss  Timlow  is 
prettier  than  you  are ! " 

So  the  awful  secret  was  out,  and  the  awful 
tragedy  was  over.  When  the  word  was  spoken, 
the  obsession  ended ;  and  the  child,  quieted  and 
restored  by  the  sympathy  of  the  mother,  whose 
amused  smiles  the  friendly  shadows  hid,  walked 
happily  on.  When  they  entered  their  own  door 
and  the  lamplight  fell  on  the  delicately  moulded 
features  of  the  mother's  high-bred  face,  on  the 
bright  ripples  of  her  hair,  and  the  deep  beauty 
of  her  large  dark  eyes,  the  scales  fell  from  the 
wide  blue  eyes  of  the  little  girl.  The  world  and 
the  flesh  had  lost,  the  spirit  had  won,  and  the 
evil  had  gone  forever  as  she  clasped  her  arms 
about  the  neck  of  the  one  who  stood  in  the 
place  of  God  to  her,  crying:  — 

«  Oh,  Mother,  it  isn't  true  !  It  never  was  true 
at  all!  Miss  Timlow  —  why,  Miss  Timlow  is 
ugly  !  " 


CHAPTER   V 
Wliat  mig^t  l^abe  been  CEitpecteu 

Except  during  the  brief  and  tragic  reign  of 
Miss  Timlow,  Rachel's  thoughts  had  never  wan- 
dered from  their  loyalty  to  the  most  beautiful 
and  beloved  of  mothers.  Had  they  done  so, 
beyond  question  they  had  chosen  to  be  one  of 
the  children  at  the  Last  Farm. 

Perhaps  it  wbls  not  really  the  last  farm  of  the 
beautiful,  bountiful  country-side,  but  as  it  lay  on 
the  outermost  verge  of  Rachel's  world,  it  bore 
that  distinction  in  her  mind.  Why  should  there 
be  more  of  a  world  than  enough,  and  who  could 
have  wished  for  greater  felicity  than  fell  to  the 
lot  of  those  happy  children  whose  lives  were 
spent  in  and  about  the  rambling  old  farmhouse, 
whose  two  front  doors  were  but  a  symbol  of  the 
wide  hospitality  which  would  gladly  have  wel- 
comed all  mankind  to  a  share  in  its  homely 
comfort  ? 

73 


74       THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

Every  one  knows  that  mothers  are  of  many 
sorts.  Some  have  a  great  many  more  rules  than 
others,  and  it  must  be  owned  that,  in  the  eyes 
of  the  younger  sort  at  the  Village,  mothers  were 
rated  according  to  the  number  and  strictness  of 
these.  The  mother  at  Last  Farm  seemed  to  have 
no  rules  at  all,  and  it  was  small  matter  for 
wonder  that  as  many  little  guests  as  might  be 
crowded  around  her  table,  year  in  and  year  out. 
She  had  a  most  perfect  appreciation  of  the 
things  that  make  for  the  happiness  of  little 
people,  who,  in  turn,  rewarded  her  with  the 
most  lavish  affection.  One  might  eat  what  one 
liked  in  her  orchard  or  garden,  for  she  never  in 
the  least  minded  getting  up  at  any  hour  of  the 
night  to  administer  the  corrective  paregoric. 
One  might  play  out  in  the  rain  or  before  the 
dew  was  dried  from  the  grass,  since  she  had 
plenty  of  rather  good-tasting  syrups  for  colds, 
as  well  as  all  sorts  of  soothing  balms  for  cuts 
and  bruises.  There  were  always  jars  of  ginger 
crackers  and  fat  doughnuts  in  her  pantry  — 
which  had  no  key ;  and,  unlike  all  other  known 
mothers,  she  felt  that  the  children  were  never  safer 
than  when  they  sat  astride  of  the  horses  turned 
loose  in  the  meadow,  or  when  playing  about  in 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  EXPECTED    75 

the  fragrant  grasses  of  the  haymow.  The  one 
thing  she  lacked  was  the  power  to  forbid  or 
curtail  the  happiness  of  the  young  things  about 
her,  and  it  was  therefore  a  matter  of  course  that 
she  should  be  Aunt  Em'ly  to  everybody  who 
knew  her. 

Rachel  was  asked  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Last 
Farm  children.  She  was  to  go  on  Monday  and 
to  return  with  the  family,  which  was  invited  to 
spend  the  afternoon  and  have  supper  on  Wednes- 
day. It  was  to  be  a  very  large  tea-party ;  the 
Grandparents,  nearly  all  of  the  Uncles  and  Aunts, 
all  the  visitors  from  Boston,  a  great  many 
cousins,  were  asked,  as  well  as  a  few  very  par- 
ticular friends.  Two  tables  were  to  be  set  in  the 
orchard  for  the  Grown-ups,  and  the  children  were 
to  have  games  under  the  pine  trees  until  a  second 
table  could  be  laid  for  them.  Everybody  antici- 
pated a  most  delightful  time,  and  Rachel  nearly 
lost  her  mind  from  joy  when  Aunt  Em'ly  asked 
her  for  the  extra  day. 

Before  breakfast  on  Monday  her  wardrobe 
was  packed  in  a  large  valise.  Tutu  did  this 
early,  because,  she  said,  she  had  not  had  a 
profitable  Sabbath  on  account  of  Rachel's  fret- 
tings  lest  she  should  not  be  ready  on  time,  and 


76       THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

now  that  Monday  had  come  she  wished  to  have 
it  done  and  over  with.  Tutu  was  to  go  to  the 
Wednesday  tea-party  also,  and  would  assist  in 
waiting  on  the  tables. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  farm  wagon  would  never 
stop  at  Oak  House  door,  but  it  did  come  at  last, 
and  Rachel  climbed  up  beside  the  driver.  Dick 
and  Daffy  stood  at  the  gate,  looking  wistfully 
after  her  as  the  slow  horses  trotted  off  down 
the  street.  The  little  girl  turned  and  called 
"  Good-by  "  until  she  could  be  heard  no  longer ; 
and  after  that  there  w^ere  so  many  sights  to  see  in 
the  deep  woods  and  pleasant  lanes  through  which 
she  passed,  that  it  was  no  time  at  all  before  the 
horses  had  turned  in  at  their  own  barnyard 
gate,  and  the  children  trooped  out  to  welcome 
the  newcomer.  There  was  one  extra  child, — 
one  of  the  Boston  boys,  —  a  very  nice  boy. 

It  was  hard  to  know  what  to  do  first,  when 
so  many  delights  stood  at  hand  with  ready 
ministry,  but  clearly  the  most  important  thing 
was  to  get  rid  of  shoes  and  stockings.  The  Doc- 
tor's Wife  had  tried  to  give  as  many  directions 
for  RachePs  conduct  as  she  could  think  of,  but  she 
had  forgotten  to  forbid  bare  feet,  and  although  Miss 
knew  her  opinion  on  the  subject  perfectly,  there 


^ 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  EXPECTED    77 

was  a  little  pile  of  discarded  foot-gear  on  the  floor 
of  the  children's  room  directly.  After  that  there 
was  a  perfect  riot  of  fun,  until  suddenly  it  was 
night,  and  the  large  moon  was  looking  through 
the  pine  trees  at  three  little  white  figures  climb- 
ing into  the  big  bed.  Outside  katydids  were 
accusing  and  insinuating,  crickets  were  chirring, 
and  all  the  sounds  of  a  hot  Summer  night  were 
filling  the  air. 

Rachel  was  like  an  owl.  Her  eyes  got  bigger 
as  night  came  on,  and  her  fancies  quickened 
as  darkness  deepened.  At  home,  talking  after 
prayers  was  forbidden,  and  besides,  one  was  lis- 
tening to  Tutu's  strident  voice,  reading  out  the 
old  Hebraic  histories.  Here  were  keen  listeners 
and  no  prohibitory  rules,  so  Rachel  began  to  spin 
out  her  tales. 

The  boy  from  Boston  had  the  next  room.  He 
could  hear  her  voice  through  the  closed  door. 

«  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  he  called. 

"  Rachel's  telling  stories." 

"  What  kind  ?     Girl  stories  ?  " 

"  No,  splendid  ones.     Out  of  Arabian  Nights.''' 

"  Well,  wait.  I  will  pull  my  bed  off  on  the 
floor,  by  the  door-crack,  and  then  if  she  will 
holler  a  little  I  can  hear." 


78       THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

So  Rachel  "  hollered." 

In  the  still  moonlight  it  was  easy  enough  to 
believe  in  the  spirits  and  genii,  the  robbers  and 
murderers,  of  the  old  Oriental  imaginings,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  the  little  girls  were  wrought 
up  to  the  highest  tension  by  the  terrors  she 
related.  The  boy  from  Boston  had  read  the 
stories  for  himself,  so  he  soon  left  off  listening 
and  went  to  sleep.  He  had  had  a  very  busy 
day.  He  had  trapped  two  gophers  and  had 
tanned  their  skins. 

The  three  heads  were  all  under  the  sheet  now, 
and  all  the  hands  were  clutched  at  each  other  in 
fascinated  horror  as  Rachel  told  on.  More  and 
more  terrible  grew  the  adventures  of  her  charac- 
ters, brighter  and  brighter  shone  the  moonlight, 
deeper  and  deeper  fell  the  pine-tree  shadows, 
louder  and  sadder  grew  the  voices  of  the  night. 
An  owl  began  its  shuddering  cry.  There  was 
a  rustling  sound  in  the  room  itself,  a  low, 
stealthy  sound. 

What  if  — ? 

There  was  certainly  Somebody  or  Something 
strange  in  the  room. 

Rachel  was  an  arrant  coward. 

"  You  look  out,  Mary ;  you're  the  oldest  —  " 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  EXPECTED    79 

she  whispered,  pulling   the    sheet   tighter   over 
her  head. 

Mary  waived  the  honors  of  her  age. 
"  Only  two  weeks  older'n  you,"  she  reasoned. 
"  Two  weeks  is  a  good  deal." 
"Well,  I   ain't  going  to  look,  if  it  is,"   said 
Mary. 

"  You,  Em'ly.     You're  on  the  outside." 
"  And  be  caught  first  ?     No,  ma'am  !  " 
"  There  it  is  again.     Oh,  I  wish  I  was  home  ! " 
"  Whatever  it  is,  you  brought  it  on  yourself. 
Miss  Rachel,"  said  Mary,  ungratefully,  but  in  a 
most  distinct  voice.     "  Nobody'd  ever  catch  me 
talking  as  bad  as  you  do  'bout  those  —  Creatures. 
I  'spect  they're  very  nice,  good  Folks,  and  the  old 
stories  are  all  lies.     They've  no  call  to  be  cross 
at  me,  anyhow,  for  /  wasn't  the  one  to  tell  mean 
things  about  Them." 

This  vindication  Rachel  felt  to  be  unjust. 
Mary  had  been  the  one  to  clamor  loudest  for 
the  stories ;  and  as  Rachel  had  merely  repeated 
what  she  had  read  in  a  printed  book,  and  felt 
herself  in  no  wise  personally  responsible  for  her 
literary  material,  she  would  have  liked  to  argue 
these  points  with  Mary;  but  as  Em'ly  was 
almost  choking  her,  she  could  not  dQ  so.     The 


80       THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

eerie  sounds  continued  intermittingly.  So  did 
the  boding  cry  of  the  owl. 

Rachel  thought  of  prayer ;  but  danger  seemed 
too  imminent  for  any  but  the  most  immediate 
action. 

"  Let's  all  screech  together,"  she  advised.  "  If 
we  screech  hard  enough,  some  one  will  be  sure  to 
come." 

No  wonder  some  one  came.  The  triplicate 
screech  would  have  awakened  the  Seven 
Sleepers. 

Aunt  Em'ly  appeared  as  if  by  magic.  In  one 
hand  she  held  a  candle  and  the  bottle  of  pare- 
goric ;  in  the  other,  a  strip  of  old  linen  and  the 
Pond's  Extract. 

The  mysterious  noises  were  accounted  for. 
The  terrier  puppy  had  crept  surreptitiously 
upstairs,  and  was  making  his  uneasy  bed  on 
the  little  gowns  cast  untidily  into  the  corner. 

The  next  thing  that  happened  was  morning. 
It  was  raining,  a  most  inopportune  rain.  In 
honor  of  the  little  kinsman  from  Boston,  the 
Grand-aunt  who  lived  at  Locust  Lane  had  bidden 
the  children  to  spend  the  day  with  her ;  and  even 
as  Locust  Lane  was  no  everyday  place,  so  a  visit 
thither  was  no  everyday  affair,  and  the  patter  of 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  EXPECTED    81 

the  rain  upon  the  roof  was  a  most  unwelcome 
sound.     Perhaps  it  might  leave  off  before  noon. 

Yes  ;  before  noon  the  rain  had  changed  into 
a  warm,  soft  mist.  The  children  decided  that 
there  was  no  need  for  them  to  forego  the  visit. 
The  boy  from  Boston  had  a  pair  of  tall  rubber 
boots,  and  Rachel  had  her  blue  parasol,  so  they 
felt  equal  to  anything.  The  things  for  the  next 
day's  feast  were  preparing,  so  Aunt  Em'ly  and 
the  elder  daughters  were  only  too  glad  to  have 
the  children  out  of  their  way,  to  think  of  offering 
objections.     The  procession  set  forth. 

The  road  could  hardly  have  been  worse.  The 
rain  had  churned  the  deep  prairie  soil  into  a 
black  batter.  The  Boston  boy  splashed  on 
through  the  deepest  puddles.  The  little  girls 
hopped  enviously  along,  choosing  the  least  bad 
of  the  stepping-places. 

"  We  could  walk  on  the  fence ;  sidewise,  you 
know,"  suggested  Mary.  "I  wish  we  were  all 
gophers,  then  we  could  cut  along  like  anything." 

But  they  were  not  gophers,  and  therefore  they 
cut  along  on  the  Virginian  fence  at  a  rate  which 
promised  but  ill  for  their  prospects  of  dinner. 
Then  a  hedged  field  intervened,  and  they  were 
forced  to  take  to  the  road  again. 


82   THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

It  was  very  unfortunate,  but  Rachel  dropped 
her  parasol  into  the  ditch.  She  was  greatly 
attached  to  the  parasol,  and  in  her  distress  she 
flung  herself  on  her  knees  to  recover  it.  After 
that  there  was  no  need  to  be  careful  of  anything, 
and  seeing  her  skipping  gayly  along,  the  Last 
Farm  children  forgot  their  clean  raiment,  closed 
their  umbrellas,  and  followed  suit.  The  rest  of 
the  journey  was  delightful,  and  they  arrived  at 
the  farmstead  of  Locust  Lane  in  high  spirits. 

The  Grand-aunt  met  them  at  the  door;  her 
face  became  pale  with  horror.  These  her  nieces  ! 
That  her  nephew  !  Her  placid  existence  had  been 
invaded  by  no  element  so  foreign  for  many  a 
long  year.  She  hastily  closed  the  door  behind 
her,  and  stood  where  the  gray  mist  touched  her 
gray  curls.  Her  delicate  old  hand  trembled  as 
she  pointed  toward  the  woodshed. 

«  Go  in  there,"  she  quavered.  "  Sit  down  on 
clean  logs,  and  scrape  off  the  mud  with  chips. 
I  think,  I  certainly  do  think,  that  no  shoes  and 
stockings  at  all  would  be  less  dangerous  than 
those  you  have  on.     They  are  wringing  wet." 

This  the  children  already  knew.  A  little 
abashed,  they  filed  into  the  orderly  shed  and 
took  off  their  shoes.     They  felt  the  frank  hunger 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  EXPECTED    83 

of  the  young  animal,  and  they  now  began  to 
wonder  if  any  dinner  would  be  given  them. 
The  Grand-aunt's  neatness  was  proverbial;  it 
was  not  probable  that  they  would  be  permitted 
to  sit  in  her  nice  dining  room. 

After  a  very  long  time  she  came  out,  stepping 
daintily  and  swiftly,  and  followed  by  her 
old  servant-woman.  The  Grand-aunt  carried  a 
large  armful  of  yellowed  muslins  and  old-time 
prints.     Hannah  had  a  large  basin,  some  towels 

and  soap. 

"  Go  up  into  the  loft  with  Hannah,  Thomas," 
said  the  old  gentlewoman,  sternly,  "  and  put  on 
exactly  what  she  gives  you  without  a  word. 
Let  me  hear  no  word  of  rebellion.  Mary  — 
Rachel  — Emily,  take  off  your  aprons." 

Fifty  years  before  there  had  been  a  little  daugh- 
ter at  the  old  farmhouse;  a  daughter  grown, 
married,  and  "  gone  West,"  so  far  away  and  so 
long  before  that  even  her  name  was  not  known 
to  the  children's  generation.  A  box  of  her  cloth- 
ing stood  in  the  room  so  long  vacant,  sacredly 
treasured  by  the  fond  mother,  who  lifted  it 
out  reverently,  sometimes,  and  conjured  up  the 
little  figure  that  had  once  drifted  like  sunshine 
through   the   quiet   rooms.     It  was  now  a  real 


84       THE  DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

pain  to  her  to  see  the  garments  desecrated  — 
but  duty  was  duty. 

Rachel  looked  at  Mary;  she  looked  at  Em'ly; 
she  looked  at  herself,  and  broke  into  a  loud  wail 
of  angry  protest. 

"  Pd  rather  be  soaked  to  the  skin,  and  mud  to 
the  eyes,  than  dressed  up  in  these  old  rags,"  she 
screamed.  "  The  ruffles  on  the  petticoats  scratch 
my  legs,  and  I  can't  breathe  with  such  a  tight 
dress  on !  You  said  you'd  like  to  be  a  gopher, 
Mar}^;  you'd  wish  it  more  than  ever  if  you  could 
see  yourself  now  !  I  am  not  going  to  stand  it ! 
I  shall  go  home  this  minute  ! " 

The  stairway  creaked,  and  Tom  descended, 
followed  by  the  grim  Hannah.  His  face  was 
scarlet,  his  lips  were  pressed  tightly  together, 
his  eyes  blazed  with  rage.  His  trim  knicker- 
bockers had  given  place  to  a  garment  of  nankeen 
muslin,  yellow  and  frilled,  —  an  unmistakable 
skirt ;  and  instead  of  his  pretty  blouse,  he  was 
compassed  about  by  the  purple,  knitted  folds  of  a 
woollen  Joseph.  Rachel's  wrath  gave  way  to  a 
peal  of  laughter  as  the  Grand-aunt  fled  house- 
ward. 

"  You  can  play  in  the  barn,"  said  Hannah, 
angrily;  "I'll   fetch   your    dinner  out;  but   the 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  EXPECTED    85 

house  isn't  a  place  for  the  likes  of  you."    Hannah 
also  departed. 

"  I'm  glad  we  did  get  muddy,"  said  the  adapt- 
able  Rachel.  "We'll  have  a  heap  better  time 
than  we'd  have  had  sitting  up  prim  in  the  parlor, 
looking  at  picture  books.  We  can  play  we're 
shipwrecked,  and  the  barn  is  a  desert  island  for 
us  to  explore.  Unbutton  my  back,  Mary ;  I'll 
pop  open  if  you  don't." 

It  was  an  ideal  barn  — vast  and  dim  in  the 
gray  light.     Up  in  the  world  of  dusty  rafters 
and  glancing  motes,  the  swallows  had  plastered 
their  untidy  nests,  and  the  air  seemed  filled  with 
whirling  wings.     In  and  out  of  the  open  win- 
dows flitted  tiny  flycatchers  wicn  their  lonesome 
little   cries.     The   great   church-going  rockaway 
stood    in  a  corner   beyond    the  little    everyday 
cart,  and  the  Great-uncle's  saddle,  and  the  queer 
old    side-saddle   on  which    the   Grand-aunt   had 
made  the  great  hegira    half  a  century   before; 
bridles,  bits  of  old  rope  and  chain,  dusty  old  buf- 
falo-skin robes,  the  red  sleigh,  and  the  ropes  of 
bells  that  belonged  to  Winter,  —  these  were  all 
to  be  found  in  the  sleepy  old  barn ;  where  there 
was,  moreover,  a  mow  of  hay  to  slide  on,  and 
bins  of  slippery  oats  and  golden  ears  of  corn 


86   THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

guarded  by  half-wild  cats,  now  scurrying  to  safe 
shelter  among  the  beams,  whence  their  golden- 
topaz  eyes  glared  fiercely  down  at  the  strange- 
looking  invaders.     Ah,  that  was  a  barn  indeed! 

Everything  had  been  explored  but  a  barrel  in 
a  corner.  A  lid  was  on  it,  and  on  the  lid  lay 
four  old  horseshoes.  It  would  be  a  pity  not  to 
know  what  was  in  the  barrel. 

Off  came  the  lid,  and  out  flew  a  hen,  which 
fell  exhausted  on  the  floor. 

Tom  picked  her  up.  Her  eyes  closed  weakly. 
It  was  hardly  possible  that  a  hen  could  be  so 
very  thin. 

Here  was  a  tragedy. 

The  children  stood  in  the  barn  door  and 
screamed  for  help. 

The  house  door  opened  and  Tom  held  up  the 
little  hen. 

"  We  found  her  in  an  old  barrel,"  he  shouted ; 
"  she's  nearly  dead." 

The  Grand-aunt  crossed  the  lane  quickly,  and 
took  the  poor  hen  in  her  arms.  She  burst  into 
tears. 

"  I  shut  her  up  to  keep  her  from  sitting,"  she 
said,  "  and  I  forgot  her.  It  was  over  a  week  ago. 
I  can  never  forgive  myself.     Oh,  Speckle,  if  you 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  EXPECTED    87 

will  only  live,  you  may  do  just  whatever  you 
please,  and  never,  never  shall  your  head  be  cut 

off!" 

With  unwonted  tears  lying  on  her  fair  old 
cheeks,  she  carried  Speckle  tenderly  over  to  the 
house.  It  had  been  a  most  trying  day,  and  she 
felt  quite  spent.  The  children  looked  at  each  other. 
"  I'm  sorry  for  Speckle,  but  I  ain't  sorry  for 
the  Grand-aunt,"  said  Rachel,  spitefully.  "  People 
who  make  such  fusses  about  a  little  clean  dirt 
and  dress  their  company  up  like  scarecrows 
deserve  to  be  punished.  You  needn't  say 
« Shame ! '  Tom,  for  I  am  glad,  and  if  you  saw 
yourself,  you'd  be  glad  too.  I  bet  Dick  wouldn't 
let  any  old  Hannah  make  a  girl  out  of  him  !" 

The  rain  and  mist  gave  place  to  sunshine,  and 
by  four  o'clock  Hannah  had  all  the  soiled  cloth- 
ing nicely  washed  and  ironed  and  dried.  The 
cakes  were  all  baked,  and  Aunt  Em'ly  and  the 
elder  daughters,  in  fresh  gowns,  were  sitting  out 
under  the  pine  trees  when  the  quartet  returned. 

"  Wonders  will  never  cease ! "  said  the  older 
daughter,  looking  up  from  her  book.  ''You 
have  been  gone  all  day,  and  you  come  home  as 
clean  as  you  went." 

"Yes'm,"  said  the  children. 


88       THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

The  tea-party  day  dawned  bright  and  still. 
The  rain  had  come  on  again  a  few  hours  before 
dawn ;  but  when  the  sun  rose,  it  seemed  as  if 
every  particle  of  dust  had  been  washed  away 
from  the  fresh  and  lovely  world,  that  smiled 
and  dimpled,  and  shook  the  pearls  and  diamonds 
from  its  leafy  coronal,  as  a  fair  young  goddess 
might  have  done.  No  one  could  have  believed 
the  world  to  be  as  old  as  it  really  is. 

The  tea-party  people  were  to  come  early,  so 
there  would  be  a  long  afternoon  for  social  enjoy- 
ment. It  was  hoped  that  by  three  o'clock  the 
last  guest  would  have  arrived.  By  one  o'clock 
the  tables  were  laid.  The  young  ladies  had 
trimmed  them  beautifully  with  cool  ferns  and 
delicate  trails  of  creeping  plants  and  misty  grasses 
from  the  woods  and  fields.  The  flowers  in  the 
garden  were  left  to  be  admired  where  they  were 
growing,  and  then  all  the  late-blooming  roses 
and  asters  were  to  be  cut  for  the  friends  to  carry 
home  with  them.  There  was  to  be  another  sur- 
prise. Each  guest  was  to  be  presented  with  a 
watermelon.  It  was  not  Aunt  Em'ly's  idea  of 
hospitality  to  let  any  one  go  empty-handed  from 
her  door.  The  watermelons  were  cooling  luxu- 
riously in  the  ice-house  already. 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  EXPECTED    89 

Before  they  donned  their  own  dainty  ribbons 
and  muslins,  the  elder  daughters  dressed  the 
children.  Mary  and  Em'ly  hardly  knew  them- 
selves in  the  embroidered  frocks  reserved  strictly 
for  Sunday  wear,  and  Rachel  was  more  than 
pleased  to  find  that  Tutu  had  put  her  favorite 
gown  in  the  bottom  of  the  valise.  It  had  little 
pink  rosebuds  scattered  over  it  in  a  very  artistic 
manner.  All  had  on  their  best  slippers,  and 
were  carefully  warned  against  mussing  or  crum- 
pling their  clothes. 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  safe  to  let  them  go  down- 
stairs ?  "  asked  one  of  the  young  ladies. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  feel  uneasy  about  Mary  and  Em'ly, 
but  Rachel  is  always  full  of  schemes  that  end  in 
disaster." 

"  There  isn't  any  danger,"  comforted  the  other 
sister.  "  They  are  going  to  sit  on  the  carriage 
block,  and  watch  for  the  company." 

It  was  very  pleasant  on  the  carriage  block, 
which  stood  on  the  grassy  space  before  the  gate, 
and  which  was  itself  made  of  some  sections  of 
old  trees,  over  which  gray  and  olive  lichens  were 
painting  soft  harmonies  of  color  and  texture. 
The  shadows  of  the  locust  trees  flickered  daintily 


90       THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

over  the  heads  of  the  little  girls.  It  was  very 
still,  and  nothing  could  be  seen  dov^n  the  long 
straight  road. 

Across  the  v^ay  a  patch  of  burdocks  grev^ 
luxuriant.  They  v^ere  covered  with  green  and 
purple  blossom-heads. 

"  See  that  splendid  burdock,"  said  Rachel. 
"  If  we  had  a  lot  of  those  burs,  we  could  make 
some  baskets  while  we  wait.  I  believe  I'll  make 
one  for  Mother.     She  loves  baskets." 

"  It's  wet  over  there." 

"  Oh,  not  much  wet.  I  can  get  them  easily 
enough." 

It  was  not  much  wet,  for  the  ditch  which 
drained  the  roadbed  did  not  begin  until  after  the 
burdocks  had  ended.  Rachel  returned  to  the 
carriage  block  in  safety,  her  skirts  held  bag-wise, 
full  of  the  fascinating  burs. 

The  basket  was  a  failure.  No  company  was 
in  sight. 

"  I  could  make  us  wreaths,"  proposed  Rachel. 
"  Lovely  ones.     Let  me  try  on  you,  Mary." 

Mary  held  back. 

"  It's  bad  enough  having  snarls  brushed  out  of 
my  hair  now,"  she  argued,  "  let  alone  having  old 
burdocks  stuck  into  it." 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  EXPECTED    91 

«  Well,  you,  Em'ly." 

"  I  don't  want  to." 

«'  Are  you  a  'Fraid  cat,  too  ? "  taunted 
Rachel. 

"  No,  I  ain't  any  'fraider  'n  you  are ;  but  I'm 
not  going  to  have  my  hair  pulled  out  with  those 
things." 

"  Well,  I  am,  then,"  said  Rachel,  beginning 
her  wreath.  "  I've  always  wished  I  could  be  a 
Queen  of  the  May,  or  a  princess  and  wear  a 
crown,  and  now  I'm  going  to  make  believe  this 
is  a  most  splendid  crown,  with  emeralds  and 
amethysts.  I  wish  I  had  long  golden  ringlets 
like  yours,  Mary.  A  crown  will  look  some  funny 
on  my  short  hair,  but  I  can  make  believe  I've 
ringlets,  too.     See,  now  ! " 

Short  as  her  hair  was,  there  was  plenty  of  grap- 
pling-ground  for  the  sharp  spines  of  the  burdock. 
She  had  put  the  crown  on  a  little  askew,  —  the 
point  of  the  diadem  was  decidedly  to  the  left  of 
her  nose. 

Rachel's  imagination  was  fired.  She  took  off 
her  slippers  and  stockings. 

"  I'm  the  Princess  Barefoot,"  she  announced. 
"  My  enchanted  crown  is  invisible,  and  I've  got 
to  wander  about  the  world,  and  have  adventures 


92       THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

until  I  meet  the  Real  Prince,  and  when  he  sees 
me,  he  will  see  my  crown  also,  and  I  shall  be 
restored  to  my  kingdom  and  marry  my  de- 
liverer." 

She  started  off  down  the  road. 

"Don't!  You'll  get  dirty!"  cried  the  little 
girls. 

«  Only  my  feet,"  she  called  over  her  shoulder. 
«« I  am  going  to  wade  in  the  ditch  a  little." 

«« Sisters  told  you  not  to." 

« They  said  I  was  to  keep  my  dress  clean. 
They  never  mentioned  feet." 

The  thick  black  mud  oozed  deliciously  be- 
tween her  little  pink  toes  and  about  her  ankles. 
Her  skirts  were  very  short.  There  could  be  no 
harm  in  venturing  a  little  farther  down  the 
ditch.  Mary  could  pump  on  her  feet  when  she 
got  out.  One  might  as  well  have  a  little  fun, 
now  and  then. 

The  ditch  was  deeper  than  she  had  thought. 
She  clutched  at  her  skirts.  Oh,  it  was  very 
deep !  Perhaps  it  had  no  bottom  at  all,  and  she 
would  sink  and  sink,  clear  through  the  awful 
fire  in  the  middle  of  the  earth,  and  come  out 
feet  foremost  in  China,  where  she  knew  nobody. 
Should  she  never  see  her  dear  ones  again  ?    Why, 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  EXPECTED    93 

oh,  why  had  she  left  the  safe  carriage  block  on 
which  the  Last  Farm  children  stood,  clean  and 
anxious  ? 

A  sumach  branch  hung  over  the  black  water. 
The  little  skirts  were  forgotten.  There  was  a 
mad  dash  for  life,  a  scramble,  and  Rachel  stood 
safe  upon  the  highway,  a  very  pitiful  little  prin- 
cess indeed. 

"  Hurry  up  !  "  shrilled  the  little  girls.  "  Your 
grandpa's  carriage  is  almost  here.  They're 
bringing  the  Aunts  from  Boston." 

Grandma  was  hardly  the  person  Rachel  cared 
to  meet  just  then.  She  lingered  behind  the  su- 
mach shelter  until  the  ladies  had  alighted  and 
old  Robin  was  driven  into  the  barnyard. 

How  was  she  to  get  unseen  to  the  house,  and 
what  was  she  to  do  after  she  got  there  ? 

"  Here  comes  your  father,"  piped  the  little  sis- 
ters on  the  watch-tower.  "And  your  mother, 
and  Dick,  and  Daffy,  and  Tutu." 

Rachel's  adventures  had  evidently  begun.  The 
moment  was  of  the  blackest,  but  it  had  to  be 
faced,  and  somehow  she  lived  through  it. 

Tutu  said  the  Doctor  spoiled  Rachel.  Perhaps 
he  did ;  for  instead  of  administering  the  rebuke 
she  had  so  richly  earned,  he  laughed  both  loud 


94       THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

and  long.  Dick  was,  therefore,  free  to  laugh 
also. 

The  Doctor's  Wife  grew  pale  with  mortifica- 
tion and  distress. 

Little  Daffy  began  to  cry. 

Tutu  scrambled  down  over  the  wheels.  She 
held  a  large  parcel  in  her  arms. 

"Come  straight  down  to  the  stable,  Rachel," 
she  ordered.  "  I  knew  you'd  bring  some  sort  of 
disgrace  upon  the  family,  and  I  thought  if  clean 
clothes  would  save  it,  clean  clothes  I'd  bring. 
Thanks  be  to  praise  I've  got  my  scissors  in  my 
work-bag,  for  every  one  of  those  burs  '11  have  to 
be  cut  out  of  your  hair,  by  main  strength  and 
awkwardness.     Come  along." 

The  older  tea-party  people  sat  in  the  shadow 
of  the  fragrant  murmuring  pine  trees,  enjoying 
the  sweetness  of  the  afternoon  and  the  pleasures 
of  agreeable  society.  The  young  ladies  flitted 
about  like  lovely  white  butterflies.  The  young 
men  were  all  gallantry  and  devotion.  The  chil- 
dren played  about  everywhere.  Aunt  Em'iy's 
elder  daughters  were  putting  the  last  touches  to 
the  tables  in  the  orchard. 

"  I  really  am  puzzled  about  something,"  said 
one  of  these.      "  I  was  sure  we  put  a  gown  with 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  EXPECTED    95 

pink  rosebuds  on  it  on  Rachel,  yet  there  she  is, 
figuring  away  in  a  blue  chambray.  I  wonder 
what  it  means,  and  I  do  wonder  what  is  the 
matter  with  her  hair." 

"  I  haven't  time  for  wonder,"  said  the  other ; 
"but  that  is  a  dreadful  child." 


CHAPTER  VI 
l^abtng  t^e  Congre0s?man  to  Wtu 

Culture  was  not  spelled  with  a  capital  letter 
in  the  Village.  The  men  did  not  think  that  the 
salvation  of  the  whole  world  lay  in  its  adoption 
of  their  particular  views,  and  none  of  the  women 
belonged  to  a  club ;  but  there  was  culture  of  the 
highest  type  in  the  unpretentious  homes  where 
they  lived  and  read  and  thought.  Few  of  them 
had  overlong  purses ;  their  lives  were  full  of 
simple  everyday  duties ;  but  their  outlooks  were 
wide,  their  sympathies  generous,  and  their  re- 
sponse to  anything  which  appealed  to  their  high 
ideals  quick  and  sure.  Engravings  of  the  best 
pictures  hung  on  their  walls,  and  well-worn 
copies  of  the  best  books  stood  on  their  shelves. 
Their  manners  were  without  pretence,  their 
speech  pure,  and  their  lives  were  like  their 
English  —  simple,  direct,  and  unpolluted. 

Into  the  little  circle  composed  of  such  people 
as    these    there    came,   now    and    then,   persons 

96 


HAVING  THE  CONGRESSMAN  TO  TEA    97 

of  distinction  from  the  great  outer  world.  It 
was  in  the  palmy  days  of  the  lecture  lyceums 
that  Rachel  lived,  and  great  poets,  great 
philosophers,  great  orators,  and  great  soldiers 
were  more  than  once  heard  in  the  old  hall, 
which,  even  were  it  still  standing,  could  never 
hope  to  hear  such  voices  again.  Such  men  were 
never  permitted  to  go  to  the  taverns,  but  were 
entertained  at  the  home  of  this  or  that  hospitable 
citizen.  Little  parties,  small  suppers  or  break- 
fasts, or  bountiful  midday  dinners  were  made  in 
honor  of  visiting  celebrities,  and  in  that  way  a 
great  deal  of  the  best  society  was  seen  by  those 
who,  without  any  arrogance  on  their  own  part, 
or  detraction  or  envy  on  the  part  of  others,  were 
known  as  the  best  people. 

There  was  a  political  campaign  that  Fall,  and 
the  Congressman  was  coming  to  make  a  speech. 
He  was  really  a  great  man,  honored  from  sea  to 
sea,  and  as  he  and  the  Doctor  and  the  Doctor's 
Wife  had,  in  a  way,  grown  up  together,  he  was 
to  stay  over  night  at  the  Oak  House,  as  was  his 
frequent  habit,  and  a  few  of  his  oldest  friends  were 
to  come  and  drink  tea  with  him  in  the  good  old- 
fashioned  way.  His  young  wife  had  been  long 
dead,  and  he  had  no  children ;  but  he  loved  the 


H 


98       THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

little  friends,  and  they  loved  him.  He  remem- 
bered their  names,  and  never  insulted  them  by 
calling  them  "Bub"  or  "Sissy."  People  v^ho 
are  really  nice  never  forget  children's  names,  and 
people  v^ho  will  say  "  Bub  "  and  "  Sissy  "  never 
have  any  dear  little  silver  three-cent  pieces  in 
their  pockets,  and  never  show  one,  on  the  table- 
cloth, how  the  mice  run.  The  Congressman 
always  did,  and  Rachel  had  two  three-cent  pieces 
of  his  bestowal  in  her  best  box. 

There  was,  as  has  been  said,  company  asked 
to  tea  :  Sophy  Jane's  father  and  mother ;  the 
Great-uncle,  who  was  a  judge,  and  his  wife ;  the 
Great-aunt  who  had  lived  in  Paris ;  the  Minister 
and  his  pretty  wife ;  the  other  Judge,  who  would 
be  sure  to  be  late,  even  though  his  wife  were 
asked  also ;  a  lawyer  who  was  a  bachelor ;  a 
pretty  girl  cousin  who  was  engaged  to  the  bache- 
lor; and  Miss  Emily,  who  sang  so  well;  two, 
four,  six,  eight,  ten,  twelve,  fourteen,  when  the 
host  and  hostess  were  counted  in.  The  Doctor 
was  sorry  he  could  not  ask  more  ;  but  the  Village 
knew  the  limitations  of  each  dining  room,  and 
nobody  was  offended  at  being  left  out. 

The  Congressman  was  to  come  on  Wednesday. 
The  public  speaking  would  begin  at  eight  o'clock, 


HAVING  THE  CONGRESSMAN  TO  TEA    99 

so  supper  would  be  served  promptly  at  six.  In 
order  that  the  Other  Judge  should  be  there  on 
time,  he  was  asked  for  quarter-past  five. 

On  Monday  the  washing  was  out  on  the 
clothes-line  at  the  earliest  possible  hour.  It 
was  a  good  drying  day,  and  by  night  many 
of  the  larger  pieces  w^ere  ironed.     Tutu  helped. 

On  Tuesday  the  ironing  was  finished  bright 
and  early.  The  little  garments,  fresh  and  sweet, 
aired  on  the  bars  beside  the  stove.  The  best 
table-cloth  and  napkins  had  been  beautifully 
laundered,  and  the  snowdrops  on  them  fairly 
shone  with  the  excellence  of  the  polish  given 
them.  Towels  enough  to  last  any  Congressman 
for  a  week  were  laid  aside  for  use  in  his  chamber, 
and  there  were  fresh  covers  for  everything  that 
could  possibly  be  covered.  It  was  ten  o'clock 
before  all  this  was  done. 

Then  began  the  real  preparations :  chickens 
were  to  be  plucked,  cake  was  to  be  made,  citron 
was  to  be  sliced,  raisins  were  to  be  stoned, 
orange  rinds  were  to  be  grated,  lemon  juice  was 
to  be  squeezed,  sugar  was  to  be  sifted.  Every- 
thing smelled  of  spice  —  the  kitchen  was  fairy- 
land. 

Dick  hated  doing  errands,  and  really,  when  he 


100     THE  DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

had  so  many  important  things  of  his  own  to 
attend  to  after  school  hours,  it  was  not  fair 
of  Tutu  to  save  up  so  many  for  him.  On  Tues- 
day he  came  in  at  noon,  and  asked  if  there  was 
anything  he  could  do.  To  look  at  Dick's  eyes 
no  one  would  have  supposed  that  he  knew  he 
would  get  a  handful  of  raisins. 

Rachel  ran  all  the  way  home  from  school. 
Her  stockings  were  down,  and  she  had  lost  the 
note  the  German  teacher  had  given  her  for  her 
mother.  She  did  not  really  do  it  on  purpose, 
though  Fraulein  Bertha  had  distinctly  said 
before  the  whole  class  that  if  Rachel's  exercises 
were  marked  sehr  schlecht  twice,  and  sehr  schlecht 
with  an  understroke  once  more,  she  should  be 
reported.  She  had  noted  the  thick  black  stroke 
under  the  usual  sehr  schlecht  that  day,  so  she 
knew  what  was  in  the  note ;  but  she  had  honestly 
meant  to  bring  it  home.  Rachel  was  an  honest 
child. 

Daffy  was  too  little  to  be  sent  to  school,  so 
she  had  stayed  all  the  morning  with  Tutu  in  the 
kitchen.  A  clean  shingle  laid  on  a  chair,  a  lump 
of  cake  dough,  an  old  thimble,  and  her  toy  rolling- 
pin  had  kept  her  busy  and  quiet.  She  kneaded 
and  moulded  and  rolled  and  cut,  then  she  recon- 


HAVING  THE  CONGRESSMAN  TO  TEA    101 

sidered,  and  kneaded  again.  By  the  time  morn- 
ing was  over,  the  gold-colored  dough  had  assumed 
the  hue  of  the  richest  fruit  cake.  Still  Daffy 
rolled  and  cut. 

Rachel  went  up  to  her. 

"  Did  Tutu  make  us  any  little  cup-cakes  ?  "  she 
whispered. 

«  I  don't  know,"  said  Daffy ;  "  I  was  busy." 

Sophy  Jane  and  Jimmy  arrived.  With  the 
freedom  of  long-assured  friendship,  they  fol- 
lowed their  noses  around  to  the  back  door, 
which  was  standing  open  for  the  sake  of  air. 

"  Hey-oh,"  said  Sophy  Jane  and  Jimmy. 

«  Hey-oh,"  replied  the  resident  children. 

Sophy  Jane  and  Jimmy  came  in. 

Dick  opened  his  sticky  hand  and  displayed 
the  raisins. 

Jimmy  helped  himself. 

Rachel  had  nothing  to  offer.  She  looked  at 
Sophy  Jane;  she  looked  at  Tutu.  Tutu  was 
beginning  to  frown. 

Rachel  steered  close  to  Mary  Baily.  Mary 
was  Rachel's  intimate  friend. 

"I  think  Mother'd  be  pleased  if  you  offered 
Sophy  a  bite  of  that  citron,"  she  suggested; 
"the  side  that's  got  the  most  sugar  on  it." 


102     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

"I'm  doubtin'  if  she'd  be  so  plazed  as  ye 
might  think,"  said  Mary  Baily,  dryly.  "But 
I'll  tell  ye  a  saycret.  Yer  grandpa  was  here 
awhile  back,  —  th'  Lord  love  him,  for  a  kind 
ould  man !  —  an'  he  fetched  a  basket  o'  grand 
little  pears.  «For  th'  childer,'  says  himself, 
that's  got  the  good  heart  in  him.  Slip  by, 
Rachel,  darlint,  an'  give  Sophy  an'  th'  rist  th' 
wink,  an'  ye'll  find  th'  baskit  behinst  th'  hall 
door." 

Rachel  squeezed  her  hand.  «I  love  you, 
Mary,"  she  said. 

It  was  a  very  busy  day.  Synod  was  coming, 
and  the  Mission  Band  had  to  have  an  extra 
meeting.  The  Doctor's  Wife  and  Tutu  both 
belonged  to  the  Mission  Band.  The  extra 
meeting  was  set  for  Tuesday  afternoon  at  four 
o'clock. 

The  children  came  home  from  school.  Sophy 
Jane  and  Jimmy  came  also.  There  were  more 
pears  in  the  basket.  Bartlett  pears  are  not 
good  keeping  pears. 

The  house  was  perfectly  quiet.  Daffy  had 
been  taken  to  the  Mission  Band.  Mary  Baily 
loved  a  bit  of  garden,  and  she  was  planting 
daffodil  bulbs  along  the  path  that  bordered  the 


HAVING  THE  CONGRESSMAN  TO  TEA    103 

strawberry   bed.      The   kitchen   was   dark   and 
clean. 

"When  I  was  here  this  morning,"  began 
Sophy  Jane,  mysteriously,  "  I  saw  a  new  chop- 
ping bowl;  I've  thought  of  some  fun." 

The  rest  were  all  attention.  Sophy  Jane 
always  thought  of  the  best  things. 

"  We'd  better  do  it  in  the  dining  room,"  she 
said  prudently.  "  There's  a  carpet  there,  and  it 
won't  make  so  much  noise.  It's  going  to  be 
splendid,  and  it's  entirely  my  own  think-up. 
Since  the  beginning  of  the  world  nobody  has 
ever  played  it  before.  This  is  going  to  be  its 
very  first  time.     Dick,  you  get  the  bowl." 

Dick  got  the  bowl.  It  was  very  large,  and 
quite  new.  Tutu  wanted  it  to  make  chopped 
pickle  in. 

"  Put  it  down  on  the  floor,"  commanded  Sophy 
Jane. 

He  put  it  down.  Sophy  shoved  it  nearer  to 
the  table.  She  measured  distances  with  her  eye. 
Then  she  shoved  it  farther  off.  Too  far.  She 
pulled  it  back  a  little. 

«  Take  off  the  table-spread,  Rachel." 

It  was  tossed  into  the  corner,  a  crumpled  heap 
of  red. 


104     THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

« Now  I  will  go  first,"  explained  Sophy  Jane, 
mounting  to  the  top  of  the  table  nimbly,  and 
making  her  speech  from  thence  as  from  a  pulpit. 
"The  game  is  this:  we  are  to  jump  by  turns 
from  the  table  into  the  chopping  bowl.  Me  first, 
then  Jim,  then  Dick,  and  Rachel  last.  The  thing 
is  not  to  upset  the  bowl  and  fall  out.  The  one 
that  doesn't  will  get  the  prize." 

"  What's  the  prize  ?  "  asked  Jimmy. 

"  I  have  not  decided,"  said  Sophy  Jane ;  "but 
something  splendid." 

"  The  pearl  butterfly  ? "  the  question  trem- 
bled on  Rachel's  lips.  She  hoped  so ;  she  hoped 
not.  How  dreadful  it  would  be  if  one  of  those 
boys  should  get  it !  Boys  are  so  good  at  jump- 
ing, she  felt  that  she  had  no  chance  against 
them,  yet  she  was  eager  to  try.  To  fail  would 
be  to  lose  it  forever ;  it  was  a  crucial  moment. 

The  pearl  butterfly  was  the  rod  of  iron  Sophy 
Jane  held  over  Rachel's  head.  It  was  a  large 
flake  of  mother-o'-pearl,  cut  into  the  shape  of  a 
butterfly.  It  had  a  bit  of  party-colored  chenille 
twisted  to  form  a  body  and  am^tennoe  j  it  was 
poised  on  a  thread  of  wire,  and  had  once  hovered 
over  the  flowers  on  Sophy  Jane's  best  hat.  The 
hat  was  long  since  a  thing  of  the  past,  but  the 


HAVING  THE  CONGRESSMAN  TO  TEA    105 

butterfly  reposed  in  the  bureau  drawer.  Rachel 
longed  with  all  her  soul  to  possess  it.  Sophy 
Jane  cared  nothing  for  it,  but  much  for  the 
power  it  gave  her  over  her  playmate.  A  condi- 
tional promise,  a  threatened  withdrawal,  a  covert 
insinuation  of  a  resolve  to  keep  it  forever  and 
ever,  or,  in  extreme  moments,  an  announced 
determination  to  break  it  to  atoms  —  these  were 
Sophy  Jane's  mightiest  weapons  in  the  subjuga- 
tion of  her  slave. 

Sophy  Jane  looked  at  her  critically. 

"  No  ;  something  else." 

Rachel  drew  a  long  breath.  Danger  was  over  ; 
the  chance  of  final  possession  was  only  postponed. 

Sophy  Jane  lifted  her  arms. 

"One!  Two!  Three!" 

Her  legs  were  long ;  she  was  very  active,  but 
the  bowl  upset. 

Jimmy  next. 

The  bowl  upset  again.  Jimmy  was  very  fat, 
so  he  was  not  hurt. 

Then  Dick  tried. 

Failure  number  three.  Tenure  of  life  in  a 
bowl  is  most  uncertain. 

Rachel  last. 

She   breathed  hard,   she  squeezed   her  knees 


106     THE  DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

together,  she  shut  her  eyes  and  launched  forth 
into  space.     She  did  not  even  touch  the  bowl. 

Over  and  over,  faster  and  faster,  they  scrambled 
and  jumped  and  fell.  Nobody  minded  bumps ; 
everybody  was  eager  for  his  turn,  and  as  yet  no 
one  had  won  the  game.  Rachel's  head  ached 
from  the  contusion  that  was  swelling  on  her 
forehead,  her  elbow  was  skinned,  and  she  tore 
her  frock.  Like  maenads  drunk  with  pleasure, 
they  pursued  their  wild  sport. 

The  door  opened.  Their  mothers  had  walked 
down  the  street  from  the  Mission  Band,  and 
Sophy  Jane's  mother  had  stopped  to  look  at  the 
new  dining-room  wall-paper.  They  looked  in- 
stead at  the  four  madly  jumping  children,  —  hot, 
torn,  dishevelled,  scarlet,  and  wild-eyed.  They 
looked  at  the  overturned  chairs,  the  crumpled 
table-cloth,  and  the  rocking  chopping  bowl. 
Daffy  began  to  cry. 

"This  looks  like  your  work,  Sophia,"  began 
one  mother. 

"  Rachel !  —  "  said  the  other  mother. 

"No'm,  Mother's  right,"  owned  Sophy  Jane. 
"  I  made  up  the  game.  Nobody's  hurt  much  'cept 
Rachel's  head." 

"  You  may  beg  Mrs.  Doctor's  pardon,  and  go 


HAVING  THE  CONGRESSMAN  TO  TEA   107 

straight  home.  Both  of  you,"  said  Sophy  Jane's 
mother.  "  Study  your  geography  lesson,  Sophia, 
and  then  go  to  bed." 

Wednesday  was  the  day  for  the  tea-party. 
The  Congressman  was  coming  on  the  half-past 
four  train,  and  supper  was  to  be  ready  at 
six. 

Vases  of  pretty  autumnal  flowers  stood  about 
in  the  parlor  where  a  cheerful  wood  fire  was 
burning,  for  the  October  evenings  were  cool.  In 
the  Mother's  room  the  best  bed-things  adorned 
the  bed  on  which  the  ladies  were  to  lay 
their  wraps.  Two  oil  lamps  stood  in  front 
of  the  looking-glass  by  which  they  were  to 
arrange  their  hair.  The  best  pin-cushion  was 
set  out. 

In  the  dining  room  the  table  was  laid  for 
fourteen.  The  snowdrop  linen  was  as  smooth 
as  satin,  the  white  china  shone ;  the  best  silver 
and  glass  sparkled.  There  were  to  be  chickens 
and  mashed  potatoes  and  cabbage  salad.  There 
were  to  be  hot  biscuit  and  both  white  and  brown 
loaf  bread.  There  were  to  be  pickles  and  jelly 
and  honey.  There  were  to  be  coffee  and  tea. 
Then  Mary  Baily  and  Tutu  were  to  take  off 
these  things,  and  preserves,  floating-island,  and 


108     THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

all  kinds  of  cake  were  to  be  passed.  The  cakes, 
on  tall  glass  standards  and  in  delicate  silver 
baskets,  stood  on  the  side  table  where  places 
were  arranged  for  the  children.  The  floating- 
island,  in  its  tall  glass  bowl,  was  surrounded  by 
fourteen  of  the  dearest  little  custard  cups.  It 
looked  most  delicious;  it  was  ;  —  everything  was. 
Balancing  the  dish  of  custards  stood  another 
dish  holding  preserved  pears. 

The  children  were  dressed  betimes.  Tutu 
saw  to  that  —  best  shoes  and  all.  They  were  in- 
structed as  to  their  behavior,  and  sent  to  look 
out  of  the  front-room  window. 

The  Congressman  was  upstairs, — then  he  came 
down.  He  patted  Dick  on  the  shoulder,  and 
pulled  Rachel's  ear ;  but  little  Daffy  he  lifted  in 
his  arms  and  carried  into  the  parlor.  By  the 
fire  sat  all  the  guests,  except  the  Other  Judge  and 
his  wife.  It  was  now  quarter-past  five,  so  he 
might  be  expected  at  any  moment ;  but  he  had 
still  three-quarters  of  an  hour  of  grace. 

Tutu  and  Mary  Baily  were  in  the  kitchen. 
The  dining  room  was  closed  ;  only  one  lamp 
burned  there,  and  it  was  turned  a  little  low. 

Dick  and  Rachel  went  into  the  dining  room. 

Everything  looked  delicious; — everything  was. 


HAVING  THE  CONGRESSMAN  TO  TEA    109 

They  looked  to  see  if  any  frosting  had  cracked  ofi 
any  of  the  cakes ; — none  had.  They  thought  this 
a  pity — a  great  pity.     They  were  fond  of  frosting. 

Dick  stuck  his  finger  into  the  floating-island, 
and  licked  it  off  with  rapture. 

"  Oh,  do  let  me  have  a  lick ! "  begged  Rachel. 
She  whispered. 

"  I  can't ;  it's  gone,"  Dick  whispered  also. 

"  The  pears  look  nice,"  observed  Rachel.  She 
stood  near  the  pears. 

"They  do  so,"  assented  Dick.  "  There  seem  to 
be  a  great  many  of  them." 

"  There  are." 

Conversation  flagged.  Rachel  stood  a  little 
nearer  to  the  pears. 

"  I  wonder  if  they  have  begun  to  spoil,"  said 
Rachel.  "  Some  did, — last  Winter.  Mother'd  be 
mortified  to  offer  spoiled  pears  to  company." 

"  She  would  so,"  Dick  was  sure  of  that. 

"  She'd  be  glad  to  know  in  time  if  they  really 
had." 

Yes,  there  was  no  doubt  of  that. 

«  In  my  'pinion  we'd  better  make  sure,  "  Rachel 
whispered  again. 

"  Maybe  we  had." 

No; — Rachel's  had  not  spoiled,  neither   had 


no     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

Dick's.  There  were  a  great  many  in  the  dish  as 
Dick  had  observed  —  more  than  could  possibly  be 
eaten  after  all  those  other  good  things.  Grown 
people  never  save  up  room  inside  as  children 
wisely  do.  They  even  eat  bread  when  they're 
invited  out. 

« I  shouldn't  call  it  stealing  if  we  each  took 
one  more,"  said  Rachel,  the  casuist.  "  They're 
our  own  mother's  pears.  A  body'd  think  she'd 
rather  her  own  children  ate  them  instead  of 
strangers." 

Dick  hung  back.   "  No,  not  stealing  —  exactly." 

« Anyhow,  I'm  going  to  have  another,  and 
maybe  another  after  that,"  said  Rachel,  firmly, 
helping  herself  to  a  pear  with  a  finger  curved 
like  a  fish-hook.  "  Have  some,  Dick.  It  looks 
so  selfish  in  me  to  be  eating  all  these  elegant 
pears  by  myself.  Don't  drop  any  juice  on  the 
table-cloth." 

Time  flies  when  one  is  feasting.  It  was  half- 
past  five.  The  tall  clock  struck;  the  door-bell 
rang.     The  Other  Judge  was  come  at  last. 

Rachel  looked  at  the  preserve  dish.  Then  she 
looked  at  Dick.  Then  they  both  went  into 
the  dark  front  room  and  looked  out  of  the  wiu' 
dow. 


HAVING  THE  CONGRESSMAN  TO  TEA    111 

The  door  from  the  kitchen  opened,  then  the 
door  from  the  parlor  opened  also.  Tutu  and  the 
Doctor's  Wife  were  in  consultation.  The  parlor 
door  was  opened  again,  the  Doctor  was  called 
out. 

In  a  moment  he  came  to  the  front-room  door. 

"  Rachel ! "  he  called.  His  voice  was  quiet  — 
very  quiet. 

« I'm  here,  too,  sir,"  said  Dick. 


CHAPTER   VII 
Sin  affliction  in  tl^e  iFamil^ 

There  was  heavy  sorrow  in  the  Old  House 
beyond  the  Old  Orchard.  A  Presence,  still  and 
terrible,  had  been  knocking  at  the  door  for  many 
days.  Loving  hands  had  tried  to  bar  his  quiet 
footsteps,  but  in  vain.  He  had  passed  up  the 
wide  stair,  and  had  tapped  softly  at  the  door  of 
the  Youngest  Aunt,  who  was  a  widow.  She  had 
been  a  widow  ever  since  the  children  had  known 
her,  which  had  not  been  so  very  long,  for  she 
had  lived  in  the  far  West,  and  had  only  come 
home  because  of  the  black  veil  she  wore.  She 
was  a  delicate,  frail  girl,  worn  with  grief;  and 
because  she  was  so  frail,  and  because  she  had 
no  children  of  her  own,  and  was  not  accustomed 
to  the  noise  and  bustle  they  make,  the  little  people 
annoyed  her,  and  she  failed  to  win  their  hearts 
as  the  other  Aunts  had  won  them.  She  did  not 
even  rank  with  Cousins,  far  less  with  Grand- 
aunts,  in  their  affections. 

112 


AN  AFFLICTION   IN   THE   FAMILY     113 

The  Grown-ups  loved  her  very  truly  and 
tenderly,  and  the  Doctor  and  the  Doctor's  Wife 
spent  days  and  nights  beside  her  bedside  trying 
to  keep  the  white  Presence  from  touching  her. 
In  the  Village  there  were  no  paid  nurses. 
Mothers  and  aunts  and  friends,  and  even  neigh- 
bors,  did  the  nursing;  not,  perhaps,  with  the 
skill  of  the  deft,  white-gowned  graduates  who 
have  so  much  knowledge  stored  up  under  their 
coquettish  caps,  but  certainly  with  more  sym- 
pathy than  money  can  ever  command.  It 
seemed  a  kindlier  way. 

Finally  a  night  came  when  the  Presence  would 
no  longer  be  denied.  He  whispered  something 
into  the  dull  ear,  and  he  took  the  listless  hand 
into  his  own,  and  straightway  all  the  frailty  and 
pain  and  loneliness  fell  away,  and  Bright  Beings, 
whom  the  weeping  watchers  could  not  see,  led 
the  tired  spirit  up  the  shining  pathway  to  the 
Better  Country  it  had  longed  to  see.  If  the 
watchers  had  but  seen  that  which  was  before 
their  very  eyes,  how  quickly  they  would  have 
left  off  weeping  ! 

Early  the  next  morning  the  news  came  to  the 
Oak  House  —  the  news  that  Aunt  Bess  was 
gone.     Dead,   they  said. 


114     THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

Now  Death  had  been  in  the  Village  before,  and 
Rachel  knew  well  that  when  he  came  people 
who  were  quite  ordinary,  and  had  never  been  in 
the  least  interesting  before,  became  all-important. 
The  green  shutters  of  the  house  he  had  entered 
were  closed.  Crape  hung  on  the  knob  of  the 
front  door-bell.  Ladies  dressed  in  black  silk 
gowns  went  around  to  the  side  door,  carrying 
the  prettiest  flowers  from  their  gardens.  Little 
sheets  of  black-edged  paper  were  carried  about, 
inviting  people  to  the  funeral.  Then  coaches 
never  seen  at  any  other  time  appeared  as  if  by 
magic,  and  stood  in  rows  before  the  house,  and 
there  was  one  sad  vehicle  at  which  one  feared  to 
look,  but  which  had  precedence  of  all.  Children 
stood  in  frightened,  fascinated  rows  against  the 
fences  across  the  street,  and  dared  not  go  to  bed 
unshriven  for  nights  and  nights  thereafter.  Yes, 
it  was  a  very  important  thing  to  have  an  afflic- 
tion in  the  family. 

Breakfast  over,  and  Tutu's  over-vigilant  eyes 
by  great  good  hap  evaded,  Rachel  inserted  her- 
self into  her  blue  gown  with  all  haste.  It  was 
only  her  second-best  dress,  but  her  best  hat  could 
be  none  too  good  for  such  an  occasion,  and  as 
there  was  no  use  asking  Tutu's  permission,  she 


AN   AFFLICTION   IN   THE   FAMILY    115 

took  it  out  of  its  box,  slipped  the  string  under  her 
chin,  looking  in  the  mirror  to  see  the  effect  of 
the  bows  standing  stiffly  above  her  close-cropped 
head,  and  felt  herself  equal  to  anything.  She 
listened  with  prudent  ears  until  she  heard  Tutu's 
loud  voice  in  the  kitchen,  then  she  slipped  down 
the  stairs,  out  of  the  front  door,  and  into  the 
street. 

"Mother  would  like  the  Grand-uncles  and 
Aunts  to  be  told  first,"  she  decided,  so  to  their 
houses  she  repaired,  stopping  to  tell  the  news  to 
the  acquaintances  whom  she  met  on  the  way. 
Rachel's  acquaintance  w^as  very  wide,  much 
wider  than  that  of  any  member  of  the  family, 
so  it  took  her  some  time  to  make  the  round  of 
the  relatives  whom  she  wished  to  shock  and  sur- 
prise. The  sad  tidings  had,  in  each  case,  gone 
before  her,  and  she  was  not  as  much  noticed  as 
she  had  hoped  to  be,  except  by  one  Great-aunt- 
by-marriage,  who  suggested  with  unnecessary 
emphasis  that  Rachal  would  do  well  to  go  home 
and  stay  there.  This  lady  was  not  a  favorite, 
any  more  than  poor  Aunt  Bess  had  been.  She 
had  such  an  annoying  way  of  taking  opposite 
views. 

It   would    not    do   to    slight   the    Particular 


116     THE   DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

Friends,  and  who  so  particular  as  Sophy  Jane's 
mother  ?  A  difference  of  opinion  on  some  mat- 
ter of  importance  discussed  with  Sophy  Jane 
led  to  an  inevitable  conflict,  and  the  homeward 
journey  was  marked  with  a  sniff  of  anguish  very 
hard  to  be  borne,  Rachel  thought,  by  a  person 
already  stricken  by  sorrow. 

The  early  dinner  was  over.  Mother  had  not 
come  down  from  the  Old  House,  and  Tutu  had 
gone  thither  to  assist  in  the  gloomy  bustle  at- 
tendant upon  such  an  event.  It  was  very  lonely. 
Perhaps  one  might  be  allowed  to  hang  on  the 
front  gate?  There  could  be  no  harm  in  that 
that  Mary  Baily  could  see ;  so  Rachel  hung  on 
the  gate. 

People  were  passing, — many  people;  and  many 
more  seemed  to  be  gathered  down  beyond  the 
Court-house.  Some  one  told  her  that  a  wonderful 
thing  was  about  to  happen, —  a  Rope  Dancer  was 
to  perform  on  a  cable  stretched  high  in  the  air 
and  quite  across  Main  Street. 

Rachel  fired  instantly.  It  might  have  been 
possible  that  she  should  deny  herself  the  delight 
of  being  thrilled  by  so  fearsome  a  sight;  but 
there  was  little  Daffy  —  Daffy  who  ought  to  be 
taught  things      Daffy  had  never  even  heard  of  a 


AN   AFFLICTION   IN   THE   FAMILY    117 

Rope  Dancer,  and  might  never  have  an  opportu- 
nity to  see  one  again.  Duty  pointed  plainly  and 
sternly  down  the  street.  Daffy's  education 
must  not  be  neglected  even  if  Aunt  Bess  was 
dead. 

"You'd  better  not,  Rachel,"  warned  Dick. 
"  Mother  sent  word  that  you  were  to  behave, 
and  I  shouldn't  call  it  behaving  going  about  to 
see  sights." 

"  You're  going  yourself,"  replied  the  astute 
Rachel. 

"  I'm  a  boy  ;  girls  are  different.  They  have 
to  be  prim  like  ladies.  Boys  can  go  anywheres. 
You'd  better  not." 

So  off  went  Dick.  He  had  on  his  everyday 
jacket  and  a  rumpled  collar,  yet  nobody  told 
him  to  stay  in  the  yard.  The  world  was  very 
unjust.  It  was  miserable  to  be  a  girl.  The 
spirit  of  a  later  age  stirred  within  her. 

"  Daffy,"  said  Rachel,  persuasively,  "  wouldn't 
you  like  to  go  and  see  a  man  walk  across  the 
street  on  a  rope  high  up  in  the  air  ? " 

''  He'd  fall  off,"  said  Daffy. 

"  Oh,  no,  he  won't.  He  sticks  on  just  like  a 
fly  on  the  ceiling.  It'd  be  a  great  thing  for  you 
to  see." 


118  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

"  I  don't  want  to  see.     He'll  fall  off." 

"  Fiddlesticks  !  He  does  it  every  day.  Come, 
Daffy." 

"  I'm  afraid." 

"  'Fraid  cat !  'Fraid  cat ! "  taunted  Rachel. 
Her  temper  was  rising.  It  was  too  stupid  in 
Daffy,  when  she  was  willing  to  do  so  much  for 
her. 

"  Oh,  don't,  Rachel !     I'll  go  !  I'll  go  ! " 

"That's  a  good  little  girl,  and  now  I'll  tell 
you  what.  Aunt  Bess  is  dead,  you  know,  and 
we  must  be  as  respectable  as  ever  we  can,  be- 
cause we  shall  be  a  great  deal  noticed.  Mother'd 
want  us  to  wear  our  best  clothes  —  if  we 
went  —  "  she  added  a  little  dubiously.  "  Don't 
you  want  to  have  on  your  new  red  dress  and 
your  hat  with  the  quinch  blossoms  on  it,  and 
your  red  shoes  ?  " 

Daffy  loved  pretty  things. 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

She  cried  a  little  when  Rachel  pulled  her  hair 
in  her  endeavor  to  curl  the  brown  ringlets  that 
Mother  wound  so  easily  about  her  finger;  but 
she  stopped  when  the  pretty  gown  and  shoes 
went  on.  Not  all  the  buttons  of  either  were 
buttoned,  since  time  pressed,  but  enough  to  hold 


AN   AFFLICTION   IN   THE   FAMILY    119 

the  things  together ;  and  when  the  hat  with  the 
crimson  flowers  went  on,  the  little  sister  was  a 
lovely  little  study  in  color.  Rachel's  own  toilet 
was  the  affair  of  a  moment  only.  She  did  not 
care  for  new  shoes  ;  —  those  she  had  on  were 
not  so  very  dusty  or  old,  —  and  she  climbed  into 
the  fresh  "brilliant"  without  much  ceremony, 
managing  to  get  three  or  four  buttons  into  as 
many  button-holes,  haphazard,  with  scanty  loss 
of  time.  The  best  hat  went  on  as  a  matter  of 
course.  She  liked  best  hats. 
So  forth  they  fared. 

"We  must  walk  slow,  Daffy,"  said  Rachel, 
impressively.  "  Families  in  affliction  always 
walk  slow.  I've  seen  them  at  funerals.  And 
you  wait  here,"  she  added  in  after  thought. 
"I've  got  to  go  back  and  get  Mother's  veil. 
Ladies  always  wear  veils  to  funerals,  and  this  is 
a  kind  of  one.  People  might  say  things  if  I 
went  to  a  rope  dancing  without  a  veil." 

Obedient  Daffy  stood  sucking  her  fat  thumb 
until  Rachel  reappeared  with  the  folds  of  hand- 
some lace  flapping  about  her  thin,  eager  face;  and 
then,  hand  in  hand,  and  keeping  step  to  some 
imaginary  dirge,  they  walked  slowly  along  the 
street. 


120  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

"What's  that?"  asked  Daffy,  pointing  to  a 
dark  spot  against  the  eastern  sky. 

"  That  ?  oh,  my  goodness  gracious  !  that's  the 
Rope  Dancer  coming  out  to  begin.  If  we  don't 
hurry,  we'll  miss  some.  Run,  Daffy,  with  all 
your  might !  " 

"  Wait  till  I  pull  up  my  stockings.  You  didn't 
put  on  my  garters." 

« Never  mind  your  stockings.  Silly !  Do 
you  want  to  miss  the  starting  out?  Run,  I 
say  !  " 

"  Are  those  the  Doctor's  children  tearing  along 
like  wdld  things  ? "  asked  the  Minister's  Wife, 
who  was  coming  out  of  the  Milliner's  shop. 
"  Do  look.  Miss  Ould !  Rachel  has  on  her 
mother's  Brussels  lace  veil.  Her  clothes  are 
only  half  on,  and  — poor  Daffy  !  Oh  !  the  little 
thing  has  fallen  down.  Her  stockings  are  all 
under  her  poor  little  feet.  People  who  have 
no  children  cannot  be  too  thankful,"  she  added 
piously. 

"  People  who  might  have  had  that  kind,  can't," 
acquiesced  Miss  Ould,  tartly ;  "  but  very  few  are 
afflicted  with  a  limb  like  that  Rachel.  She  was 
here  yesterday,  begging  for  some  scraps  of  crape. 
She  said  her  doll  would  most  likely  have  to  go 


AN   AFFLICTION   IN   THE   FAMILY    121 

into  mourning  shortly,  and  she  wished  to  have 
her  things  ready.  Did  you  ever  see  her  doll  ? 
Not  a  whole  inch  to  its  body,  or  a  rag  of  proper 
clothes  to  its  name.     She's  an  awful  child." 

"  I'm  sorry  for  her  parents,"  said  the  Minis- 
ter's Wife,  stepping  daintily  away  in  the  direction 
opposite  to  the  crowd  which  was  now  aug- 
mented by  the  arrival  of  two  dishevelled  and 
gasping  little  figures.  Daffy,  indeed,  announced 
her  presence  by  loud  wails  in  honor  of  a  skin- 
less knee ;  but  Rachel,  with  her  veil  down, 
glowed  scarlet  in  her  efforts  to  quiet  the  little 
sister,  to  preserve  the  family  dignity,  and  to 
watch  the  Dancer  at  the  same  time. 

What  a  wonderful  man  he  was,  to  be  sure ! 
What  beautiful  clothes  he  wore !  What  un- 
heard-of pink  stockings,  and  what  a  gayly  plumed 
hat !  How  lightly  he  balanced  his  wand  of 
gold,  and  with  what  confidence  he  stepped  along 
that  gossamer  thread  in  mid-air  !  Ah  !  surely  he 
was  falling.  Cold  chills  rushed  deliciously  down 
the  spine  as  one  saw  him  fall,  recover  himself, 
and  whirl  and  wheel  about  the  magic  rope,  the 
plumed  cap  and  glittering  wand  flashing  in  the 
sunshine.  What  a  king  of  men  must  he  be,  that 
beautiful  brilliant  creature,  who  could  sail  like  a 


122  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

bird  through  the  summer  skies !  Why  should  a 
vision  so  delightful  ever  fade  out  into  the  com- 
mon light  of  day  ?  Why  could  not  a  moment 
of  such  ecstasy  last  forever  ? 

"  Rachel,  come  home  this  instant !  " 

The  ecstatic  moment  was  at  an  end  already. 
Here  was  —  not  the  Doctor,  who  had  humor, 
or  the  Doctor's  Wife,  who  had  tenderness  — 
but  Tutu,  the  stern  avenger  of  all  lapses  from  the 
strictest  code  of  morals ;  Tutu,  who,  return- 
ing from  the  Old  House,  had  missed  the  children 
and  with  a  fatal  instinct  had  followed  to  take 
her  victims  red-handed  ;  Tutu,  who  carried  the 
key  to  the  closet  in  which  familiar  prison  many 
a  long  hour  was  darkly  passed ;  Tutu,  who  con- 
trolled, absolutely,  the  bread-and-jam  market, 
and  in  whose  hands  was  the  hour  when  bed 
could  be  no  longer  avoided. 

There  was  a  consultation  before  the  funeral. 

"  The  child  is  so  excitable,"  said  the  Doctor's 
Wife ;  "  she  has  gotten  herself  into  such  a  state 
about  poor  Bess,  and  the  Rope  Dancer,  and  the 
punishment  Tutu  gave  her  before  I  got  home, 
that  I  really  do  not  know  what  to  do  with  her. 
Her  father  says  emphatically  that  she  is  to  be 
left  at  home.     He  hates  scenes,  and  he  says  she 


AN  AFFLICTION   IN   THE   FAMILY    123 

will  be  sure  to  make  one  if  we  bring  her  up 
here." 

"  Poor  little  dear,"  said  the  softest-hearted  of 
the  Aunties;  "let  her  stay  at  home.  I  never 
believed  in  taking  nervous  children  to  sad 
places." 

"She'll  make  trouble  either  way,"  observed 
the  Bachelor  Uncle,  consolingly.  "  She  has  a 
genius  for  it." 

«  Let  her  stay  and  play  in  the  garden  until 
five  o'clock,"  said  the  Other  Aunt.  "  And  then 
let  her  join  us  here.  You  know  Mother  wishes 
to  observe  the  old  custom  they  had  at  home  in 
Virginia,  and  to  have  us  all  take  our  first  meal 
together  —  afterward." 

So  Dick  and  Daffy  were  dressed  betimes,  and 
drove  away  in  a  coach.  It  was  with  a  pang  of 
envy  that  Rachel  saw  this  mark  of  distinction 
bestowed  upon  them.  She  had  screamed  with 
terror  at  the  idea  of  going  with  them ;  now  she 
wept  with  misery  because  she  had  been  left 
behind.  The  house  had  been  locked,  and  she 
had  been  strictly  bidden  to  stay  in  the  garden 
or  on  the  porch,  where  her  favorite  "Mr. 
Wind  and  Madam  Rain  "  lay  on  the  step. 
Her  best  hat  hung  on  the  door-knob,  waiting, 


124     THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

until  the  Town  Clock  should  strike  five,  when 
she  was  to  go  to  the  Old  House.  It  had 
been  the  best  the  Elders  could  do  for  her.  Tutu 
was  quite  too  much  one  of  the  family  not  to  be 
allowed  to  share  outwardly  in  its  sorrow,  and 
so  was  Mary  Baily ;  so  they  also  had  entered  a 
coach  and  been  driven  off  to  the  house  of  mourn- 
ing. 

Rachel  sat  on  the  step  and  leaned  her  head  on 
her  hands.  No  one  passed  by  to  notice  this  in- 
teresting attitude,  so  she  took  up  a  position  nearer 
the  gate  and  began  to  sing.  She  loved  to  sing, 
and  the  neighborhood  was  well  used  to  her 
shrill  caroUings.  In  her  present  condition  she 
felt  that  something  distinctively  religious  was 
demanded;  so  looking  over  her  rejpertoire  of  sacred 
music,  she  selected  the  most  doleful  and  began : — 

"  The  day  is  past  and  gone, 
The  evening  shades  appear. 
Oh,  may  we  all  remember  well 
The  night  of  death  draws  near.'' 

Even  this  mournful  wail  brought  no  sympathetic 
friend  into  view.  No  one  heard  her  but  the 
robins  in  the  ash  tree,  and  the  chipping  sparrows 
in  the  arbor  vitae,  and  they  were  rejoicing  in  the 


AN   AFFLICTION   IN   THE   FAMILY     125 

Lord  with  all  their  glad,  grateful  hearts,  and  not 
bothering  in  the  least  about  the  "  night  of  death." 
They  left  all  that  to  the  Father  of  Life,  and  were 
not  moved  in  the  least  by  the  dismal  hymn. 

It  was  very  dull.  Perhaps  she  might  get  ill 
and  die  there  all  alone.  Perhaps  robbers  might 
come,  or  gypsies.  It  was  certainly  not  safe. 
She  went  to  the  gate  and  balanced  herself 
thereon,  prone  upon  her  stomach.  Two  little 
girls  were  within  sight.  She  did  not  know  the 
little  girls,  but  she  was  not  averse  to  extending 
her  visiting  list. 

"  Hey-oh  !  "  she  called. 

"  Hey-oh,  yourself,"  the  little  girls  responded. 

"  Come  over." 

"  We  can't.     We're  waiting  for  the  Perkinses." 

"  Well,  bring  them  along,"  she  cried  sociably. 
"We  can  play  hide-and-seek  in  the  garden. 
Wait  till  I  go  and  get  Jinny." 

Jinny's  parents  had  not  been  long  in  the 
Village,  and  knew  but  few  people  and  but  little 
of  what  was  happening  ;  so  Jinny's  mother  saw 
no  reason  why  her  little  girl  should  not  accept 
the  very  politely  expressed  invitation  of  the 
Doctor's  daughter,  and  she  said,  "  Yes,  Jinny 
might  go  and  play." 


126  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

As  they  hurried  up  the  street,  they  saw  three 
boys  who  were  not  in  Dick's  good  graces,  but 
whose  names  were  not  unknown  to  Rachel. 

«  Come  up  to  my  house,"  said  that  now  emanci- 
pated lady.  «  We're  going  to  play  hide-and-seek 
in  the  garden.  Oh,  no  !  I'll  tell  you  what  we 
can  do  better'n  that.  We'll  go  to  the  Stone- 
cutter's and  sit  on  the  gravestones  and  see  my 
Aunt's  funeral  go  by.  It's  going  to  be  an  awful 
big  one.  Masons,  perhaps,  and — and — Firemen,  I 
shouldn't  wonder,  and  I  ought  to  see  it,  so's  I  can 
remember  it  as  long  as  I  live ;  —  my  own  Aunt's 
funeral,"  she  added  impressively.  "  Mother  gave 
me  a  little  bag  of  lemon  drops,  and  we'll  suck 
them  while  we  wait.  There  are  the  Perkinses 
and  the  others.  Jinny,  you  call  them  to  come, 
and  motion  to  them  to  hurry.  I  choose  that 
monument  to  sit  on.  It's  the  highest,  and  I 
ought  to  have  it.  Get  off,  Dan  Davis,  this  min- 
ute !  I  should  think  you'd  be  ashamed  to  want 
to  take  it  away  from  me.  It's  my  Aunt  that's 
getting  buried,  not  yoursP 

Slowly  through  the  blossomy  Old  Orchard 
and  down  the  shady  street  came  the  sorrowful 
procession.  The  day  was  warm,  as  late  May  days 
sometimes   are,   and    Village    etiquette    did  not 


AN   AFFLICTION   IN   THE   FAMILY     127 

demand  any  uncomfortable  drawing  of  carriage 
curtains,  even  of  those  behind  which  the  stricken 
old  parents  wept  over  the  last  parting  with  their 
youngest  born.  People,  peeping  from  the  win- 
dows, saw  the  brothers  and  sisters,  and  the  long, 
long  line  of  relatives  and  friends  who  were  show- 
ing their  respect  in  the  kindly  old-fashioned  way 
of  seeing  the  mortal  bodies  of  those  who  had 
left  them,  laid  in  the  safe  keeping  of  the  gentle 
earth ;  and  although  the  Masons  and  Firemen  of 
Rachel's  imagination  were  not  there,  it  was  a 
long  retinue  that  came  into  view.  The  horses 
walked  at  their  slowest  pace,  and  then  there  came 
a  moment  w^hen  all  grief  was  lost  in  the  fresh 
scandal  Rachel  was  bringing  on  her  name. 

Smiling  joyfully,  waving  her  scrawny  arms  in 
recognition,  she  sat  perched  upon  the  highest 
tombstone  surrounded  by  children  whom  no  one 
knew,  who  smiled  because  Rachel  smiled,  and 
set  up  a  shrill  cheer  as  each  coach  passed  by. 

"My  Grandparents  are  in  that  carriage,"  an- 
nounced the  excited  Rachel,  "  and  my  two  Aunts, 
I  wish  they'd  look  out.  Oh,  look  !  Here's  Father 
and  Mother,  and  Dick  and  Daffy.  Dick  sees 
me.  Hey-oh,  Dick  !  Hey-oh,  Daffy !  Mother ! 
Now  they're  past,  and  those  are  my  other  Grand- 


128     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

parents.  I  wonder  what  makes  Grandma  look 
so  cross.  Grandpa  laughed,  I  saw  him.  All  the 
rest  are  Uncles  and  Aunts  and  Cousins  and  Par- 
ticular Friends.  We  have  a  large  connection, 
and  it's  very  gratifying  to  have  so  much  sympa- 
thy at  this  time,"  she  went  on,  quoting  a  remark 
she  had  overheard  among  the  Grown-ups,  as  the 
last  carriage  passed,  and  she,  shifting  a  lemon  drop 
from  one  cheek  to  the  other,  prepared  to  descend 
from  her  perilous  coign  of  vantage.  "  Now  you 
can  all  go  home.  I  must  go  and  get  my  hat  off 
the  door-knob,  and  go  up  to  the  Old  House.  It 
isn't  five  o'clock  exactly,  but  we're  all  to  eat 
supper  up  there  together.  It's  an  old  custom  in 
Virginia,  when  a  Family  is  in  affliction." 


1 


CHAPTER   VIII 
iFetcl&ing  t\)t  Spoons? 

Nobody  in  the  Village  had  ever  heard  of  a  five 
o'clock  tea ;  nobody  had  ever  given  a  diner  a  la 
Busse.  The  young  people,  just  budding  into 
manhood  and  v^omanhood,  had  little  dances 
now  and  then ;  but  they  had  never  heard  of  a 
cotillon^  and  the  gowns  worn  at  a  modern  small- 
and-early  would  have  filled  them  with  amaze- 
ment. It  is  easy  to  see,  therefore,  how  primitive 
the  Village  was.  Yet  there,  as  everywhere,  Cupid 
was  busy,  and  there  was  a  great  deal  of  very 
pleasant  hospitality.  People  went  out  often 
to  spend  the  day,  and  they  constantly  took  tea 
with  each  other  in  a  very  sociable  and  informal 
way ;  while  once  or  twice  during  the  Winter  the 
houses  of  persons  of  consequence  were  opened 
to  as  many  friends  as  could  be  comfortably 
accommodated.  These  reunions  were  called 
parties.  They  began  at  eight  o'clock,  and  be- 
fore midnight  the  silver  had  all  been  washed 
K  129 


130     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

and  put  away,  and  the  lights  which  had  blazed 
a  welcome  far  down  the  snowy  streets  were 
out  for  the  night. 

There  was  no  caterer  from  whom  a  supper 
could  be  ordered.  Everything  was  made  in  the 
home  of  the  hostess,  unless  she  had  sisters.  In 
that  event,  they  made  the  lemon  jelly  and  the 
cocoanut  cakes.  The  whipped  cream  was  always 
made  by  the  giver  of  the  feast  herself,  and  no 
hand  but  hers  was  light  enough  to  heap  it  into 
the  tall  sillabub  glasses,  or  to  drop  in  the  conserved 
cherry  that  was  its  crowning  grace.  If  anybody 
had  red  geraniums  blossoming  in  her  window,  and 
she  were  invited  to  a  party,  she  cut  her  treasures 
on  the  fete  day  and  carried  them  to  the  party 
house,  where  they  were  placed  in  a  vase  on  the 
piano.  Otherwise  there  would  have  been  no 
flowers.  People  borrowed  or  loaned  cake  stands 
and  baskets,  and  teaspoons,  and  even  plates, 
quite  openly.  It  made  a  guest  feel  at  home  to 
see  her  own  initials  on  the  fork  with  which 
she  ate  her  salad ;  and  it  was  no  derogation  to 
the  dignity  of  a  hostess  to  hear  the  whispered 
comment :  — 

"  How  her  Aunt  Henrietta's  silver  candlesticks 
do  set  off  the  table  !  " 


FETCHING   THE   SPOONS  131 

The  Doctor's  Wife  was  going  to  give  a  party. 

The  Minister's  Wife's  mother  had  been  paying 
her  daughter  a  visit,  and  the  party  was  to  be 
given  in  her  honor.  The  Minister's  Wife  had 
given  tv70  parties.  To  the  first,  all  the  congre- 
gation and  all  the  friends  outside  the  congrega- 
tion v^hose  names  began  v^ith  letters  up  to  M 
v^ere  invited ;  to  the  second,  the  people  whose 
names  began  with  letters  after  M.  Thus,  even 
captious  persons  could  not  complain  that  they 
were  asked  to  a  "second-best"  party.  The 
parties  were  given  on  two  succeeding  nights,  so 
that  things  left  over  from  Tuesday's  feast  would 
still  be  fresh  on  Wednesday,  and  the  borrowed 
things  could  stay  on  until  all  was  over.  It  was 
very  well  planned. 

The  Doctor's  house  was  larger  than  the  Manse, 
and  it  would  not  be  expected  that  he  should 
invite  all  his  fellow-churchgoers,  or  even  all  his 
patients,  so  there  would  be  a  party  at  Oak 
House  on  one  night  only. 

The  list  was  made  out  by  streets.  One  of  the 
Aunts  said  she  would  see  to  the  invitations,  so 
on  the  Saturday  before  the  Wednesday  of  the 
party  she  sat  by  Jimmy  in  the  Doctor's  sleigh, 
with  Paul  and  Dick  crouched  at  her  feet  among 


132     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

the  buffalo  robes  and  wolfskins,  and  they  jingled 
about  from  house  to  house.  The  boys  got  out 
by  turns  and  pulled  at  the  door-bells.  When  the 
door  was  opened  (as  it  nearly  always  was)  by  the 
lady  of  the  house,  they  made  very  nice  bows,  and 
said,  "  Mother  "  (or  "  Aunt  Kitty  ")  «  was  going 
to  have  a  party  next  Wednesday  night,  and  she 
hoped  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith  would  come."  Every- 
body knew  the  party  would  begin  at  eight 
o'clock,  so  there  was  no  use  of  repeating  that. 
Everybody  knew  Dick  and  Paul,  so  there  was 
no  necessity  to  say  that  the  party  would  be  at 
the  Doctor's ;  and,  besides,  everybody  had  heard 
of  it  already,  and  was  ready  to  accept  the  invita- 
tion promptly  and  with  thanks.  Then  the  boys 
jumped  off  the  porch  on  the  side  where  the  snow 
was  deepest  and  waded  back  to  the  sleigh.  So 
in  a  little  while  all  the  people  were  invited. 

On  Sunday,  in  the  Sunday-school,  the  children 
were  very  polite  to  Dick  and  Rachel.  Often 
there  was  enough  left  from  Grown-ups'  parties  to 
allow  the  children  to  have  one  the  next  day. 
Invitations  were  then  issued  in  the  morning 
before  school  took  in,  and  in  the  afternoon  the 
children  came  back  to  their  studies  with  their 
best  clothes  on,  all  ready  to  repair  to  the  house 


FETCHING  THE   SPOONS  133 

of  feasting  directly  school  was  over.  To-day 
Lucy  offered  to  let  Rachel  hold  her  muff,  which 
was  very  civil  in  Lucy,  because  when  she  got  it 
at  Christmas,  and  walked  out  of  Sunday-school 
the  Sunday  next  after,  carrying  it  with  just 
pride,  the  muffless  Rachel  had  called  after  her, 
spitefully,  "  Cat  fur  !  cat  fur  !  " 

On  Monday,  not  only  Mary  Baily  and  Tutu,  but 
the  Doctor's  Wife  also,  retired  to  the  kitchen.  It 
was  the  old  story  of  getting  ready  for  the  Con- 
gressman over  again,  only  on  a  much  larger  scale. 
Hams  were  boiled,  chickens  were  boiled,  turkeys 
were  roasted.  The  Aunts  were  to  make  the 
lemon  jelly  and  the  cocoanut  cakes,  but  all  the 
other   cakes  were   to  be    made   at  home  — five 

kinds. 

When  cake  is  made,  a  great  deal  of  good-tast- 
ing stuff  sticks  to  egg  whips,  and  spoons,  and  to 
the  sides  of  bowls,  —sweet  dough,  custard,  frost- 
ing, jelly,  and  chocolate.  Remembering  this, 
both  Dick  and  Rachel  offered  to  stay  at  home  and 
help,  but  as  they  were  not  allowed,  Daffy  scraped 
all  the  good  sticking  stuff  and  arranged  it 
along  the  edges  of  a  plate.  She  hardly  took  a 
lick  herself,  but  saved  all  the  delicacies  conscien- 
tiously until   her    elders    could    have   a   share. 


134  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

Daffy  was  a  good  little  girl.  She  loved  sweet 
things ;  but  she  loved  Rachel,  and  oh,  with  all 
her  faithful  little  heart,   she  loved  Dick. 

Mary  Baily  was  good  too.  She  saved  out 
enough  batter  to  make  four  little  saucer  cakes. 
The  children  could  divide  them  with  their  little 
cousins,  and  with   Sophy  Jane   and  Jimmy. 

All  the  cakes  were  done  by  the  time  school 
was  out.  The  Cousins  came  home  with  the 
children,  so  did  Sophy  Jane  and  Jim.  They  all 
walked  up  to  the  cold  spare-room  where  the 
cakes  were.  An  old  table-cloth  had  been  spread 
over  the  bureau,  and  the  loaves  stood  there  in  a 
row.     Tears  almost  came  into  Jimmy's  eyes. 

"I  wish  I  could  stay  all  night,"  he  said,  fer- 
vently. 

«  You'd  have  to  sleep  with  Dick  if  you  did," 
said  Rachel,  discouragingly.  "  Tutu  locks  this 
room  up  tight,  —  when  there's  cake." 

Sophy  Jane  had  a  married  sister. 

"  We  didn't  have  as  many  as  that  for  Sister's 
wedding,"  she  said,  impressed. 

As  they  descended  the  stairway,  Rachel  ex- 
plained that  there  were  more  at  the  Aunts',  —  Co- 
coanut.  Sophy  Jane  thought  it  more  than  likely 
that  enough   would  be  left  over  to  warrant  a 


FETCHING   THE   SPOONS  135 

children's  party.  However,  she  was  safe,  as 
both  she  and  Jimmy  as  well  as  the  Cousins  were 
asked  to  come  and  help.  Children  always  an- 
swered the  party-bell,  showed  the  ladies  to  the 
hostess'  chamber,  and  the  gentlemen  to  the 
spare-room  upstairs. 

On  Wednesday  there  was  no  regular  dinner, 
only  a  picked-up  one.  The  Doctor  went  to  see 
a  sick  man  in  the  country,  and  would  stop  at 
Linwood  for  his  dinner.  Grandpa  never  went 
to  evening  parties ;  but  Grandma  was  coming  in 
to  stay  all  night. 

Rachel  carried  a  note  to  school.  It  was 
pinned  on  with  two  pins,  so  she  could  not  lose 
it.  It  was  to  the  Lady  Principal,  to  ask  if  the  little 
girl  might  be  allowed  to  stay  at  home  that  after- 
noon. The  Lady  Principal  was  asked  to  the 
party,  and  so  were  several  of  the  Teachers.  One 
of  them  had  her  head  gracefully  draped  with  a 
gray  barege  veil  all  day,  so  that  she  need  not  take 
her  hair  out  of  crimping  pins  before  night. 
Permission  was,  therefore,  a  foregone  conclusion. 

Everybody  had  their  « bite  "  in  the  kitchen. 
The  dining  room  was  to  be  used  as  an  extra 
parlor.  On  a  side  table,  however,  plates  and 
napkins  were  piled  up,  and  trays  of  forks  and 


136  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

spoons.  It  takes  a  great  many  for  more  than 
ninety  people  to  eat  with.  Supper  was  to  be 
passed  to  people  wherever  they  might  chance 
to  be  when  quarter-to-ten  o'clock  came.  Plates 
and  napkins  first,  and  so  on. 

"Now,  Rachel,"  said  her  mother,  directly 
luncheon  was  over,  "put  on  your  wraps,  and 
run  up  to  the  Old  House,  and  ask  Grandmother 
and  the  Aunts  to  send  down  as  many  spoons 
and  forks  as  they  can  spare.  Take  this  little 
satchel,  and  make  haste,  for  I  shall  need  you 
very  much  this  afternoon." 

Rachel  wished  to  see  her  mother  put  the 
finishing  touches  to  the  parlor.  It  was  a  very 
pretty  parlor  indeed.  A  good  many  red  gera- 
niums had  been  sent  in,  and  Aunt  Henrietta's 
great  silver  candle  branches  fitted  with  wax 
candles  stood  on  the  piano.  Tutu  had  fetched 
these  in  person.     So  the  parlor  looked  very  gay. 

"  Yes'm,"  said  Rachel.  She  hated  going,  but 
she  went. 

On  the  way  she  met  the  Warrender  girls. 
They  had  had  measles,  and  although  they  were 
now  well,  they  had  not  reentered  school.  Time 
hung  rather  heavily  on  their  hands,  and  they 
were  very  glad  to  accept  Rachel's  invitation  to 


FETCHING  THE   SPOONS  137 

go  up  to  the  Old  House  with  her.  They  had 
been  looking  for  a  long  gutter  on  which  to 
skate,  and  had  their  skates  hanging  to  their 
shoulders  in  case  they  found  one.  When  they 
got  to  the  Old  House,  they  said  they  would  not 
go  in.  There  was  a  nice  gutter  there,  not  long 
enough  for  skating,  but  quite  long  enough  for 
sliding,  so  they  would  slide  and  keep  warm 
while  Rachel   went  in. 

The  Aunties  had  all  the  spoons  and  forks  tied 
up  by  half-dozens,  and  the  half-dozens  were 
rolled  in  tissue  paper.  They  put  them  in  the 
satchel  and  snapped  the  lock. 

"  Be  careful,  Rachel,"  warned  the  Eldest  Aunt. 

"  Oh,  poor  little  thing ! "  cried  the  Middle 
Aunt.  "  I  should  think  she  would  be  so  tired 
of  being  told  to  be  careful." 

"  She  would  not  hear  it  so  often  if  it  were  not 
necessary,"  said  the  other,  darkly.  "  Rachel  is 
very  careless." 

However,  this  time  Rachel  would  remember 
to  be  careful. 

She  went  out  into  the  street.  The  Warrenders 
were  at  the  gate.     They  had  made  a  discovery. 

There  was  a  gentle  slope  behind  the  Old  House; 
and  while  the  hollow  at  its  foot  was  not  marshy 


138     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

in  Summer,  it  was  partly  filled  by  Fall  rains 
and  Winter  snows,  and  formed  a  very  respectable 
little  pond.  Now  it  was  frozen  over,  and  had 
been  swept  by  the  boys,  marks  of  whose  skates 
shone  on  the  black  ice.  The  Warrenders  said 
the  ice  was  splendid  ;  wouldn't  Rachel  like  to  go 
down  and  look  at  it  ? 

So  they  went  down.  The  black,  smooth  ice 
was  very  tempting.  The  Warrenders  sat  down 
on  the  snow  and  buckled  on  their  skates.  Then 
they  stood  up,  holding  fast  to  Rachel's  arm,  and 
after  balancing  themselves,  and  squealing  a  little 
from  fright,  they  slid  off  over  the  pond. 

"  Let  me  try,"  begged  Rachel. 

No  ;  the  Warrenders  preferred  to  use  their  own 
skates.  They  had  not  been  trained  to  think  of 
others. 

Rachel  ached  with  cold ;  she  ached  with  envy. 
The  Warrenders  slid  about  rapturously.  They 
could  not  skate  very  well.  It  seemed  unfair 
that  those  clumsy  children,  who  at  best  could 
only  make  strokes  enough  to  justify  a  slide,  and 
who  fell  down  so  much,  should  have  skates; 
while  Rachel,  who  was  like  a  gall  for  fleetness 
when  the  steels  were  strapped  to  her  feet,  should 
stand    in   the    snow,   shivering    and   miserable. 


FETCHING  THE   SPOONS  139 

Suddenly  she  remembered  that  Paul  kept  his 
skates  in  the  woodshed. 

"  Wait  a  minute,''  she  called  to  the  Warren- 
ders,  and  off  she  ran. 

Yes ;  the  skates  were  there,  and  by  great  good 
fortune  she  had  on,  under  her  little  arctic  over- 
shoes, her  boots  that  had  bored  heels.  She  hung 
the  satchel  with  the  spoons  in  it  on  the  nail 
where  the  skates  had  dangled,  and  she  forged 
forth  clumsily  over  the  snow.  It  is  hard  to  walk 
with  skates  on. 

Once  on  the  ice,  Rachel  was  a  new  creature. 
She  darted,  she  whirled,  she  balanced,  she  flew. 
Her  cheeks  glowed,  her  little  body  swayed, 
her  arms  waved.  The  Warrenders  fell  down 
several  times  in  trying  to  keep  her  plaid  skirt  in 
view.     Rachel  never  fell. 

It  had  been  two  o'clock  when  she  left  home ; 
now  it  was  nearly  four,  and  nights  close  in  early 
in  the  North.     It  was  not  a  sunny  day  at  best. 

At  one  side  of  the  hollow,  blackberry  bushes 
grew.  They  belonged  on  Grandfather's  lower 
lot,  and  bore  a  fine  crop  of  berries  in  Summer- 
time. Everybody  said  it  was  because  the  water 
stood  about  the  brambles  in  Winter.  Per- 
haps the  strong  canes  carried  some  latent  heat 


140     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

within  their  purple  bark;  as,  for  some  reason, 
the  ice  about  them  was  very  thin.  Rachel  did 
not  know  this ;  but  it  somehow  happened  that  it 
was  nearly  four  o'clock  before  she  thought  of 
exploring  that  part  of  the  hollow  where  a  light 
snow  lay  and  where  the  blackberries  grew. 

The  ice  cracked.  It  did  not  creak  first  as 
good  ice  would  have  done ;  it  simply  broke  into 
a  hole,  and  let  Rachel  down  into  the  water. 

The  pond  was  very  shallow,  and  as  she  caught 
at  a  berry  cane  in  falling,  she  did  not  fall  in  far. 
Only  up  to  her  waist.  The  Warrenders  began 
to  cry.  They  pulled  off  their  skates  and  ran 
home. 

Rachel  had  no  idea  of  crying.  She  broke  her 
way  to  a  thicker  ice  layer;  then  she  lunged 
forward  on  her  stomach  and  quickly  crawled  to 
a  place  of  safety,  and  started  across  the  lower 
lot  toward  the  Old  House.  She  was  very  cold 
and  a  good  deal  frightened  now  all  danger  was 
over. 

She  opened  the  kitchen  door  and  clumped 
across  to  the  stove ;  no  one  was  in  the  kitchen, 
but  in  the  living-room  the  ladies  heard  a  peculiar 
noise,  and  came  out  to  see  what  it  meant. 

Rachel   now    began  to  cry,  and  the  Aunties, 


FETCHING  THE  SPOONS  141 

with  all  haste,  pulled  off  her  wet  clothing,  un- 
buckled the  skates,  and  carried  her  wrapped  in 
warm  shawls  to  the  living-room  fire.  Her  flesh 
was  almost  black  it  was  so  red,  and  she  wailed 
miserably,  with  her  face  against  Grandmother's 

shoulder. 

«  There,  there  !  "  soothed  Grandmother. 

Clothes  of  Molly's  were  soon  produced,  thick 
stockings  and  petticoats  and  things,  and  shoes 
out  of  Paul's  closet.  The  clothes  were  a  little 
small,  and  the  shoes  were  over-large,  but  they 
were  dry.  One  of  the  Aunties  gave  her  a  dose 
out  of  a  teaspoon,  and  a  mug  of  hot  milk. 
Rachel  then  felt  herself  ready  to  face  the  world 

again. 

"  I  must  go  now,"  she  said.  "  Thank  you  very 
much,  indeed.  I'll  bring  Molly's  things  back  to- 
morrow and  get  mine.  They'll  be  dry  by  then. 
Now  I  must  go  home  with  the  spoons." 

"  The  spoons  !  "  the  Aunties  lifted  their  hands 
in  horror.     "  Didn't  you  take  them  down  long 

hours  ago?" 

ci  N— n— no'm.  I  was  skating  on  the  pond. 
They're  all  right.  I  left  them  hanging  on  a  nail 
in  the  woodshed." 

Yes;  the  spoons  were  safe.     Rachel   showed 


142  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

the  satchel  to  the  ladies  before  she  started.  It 
was  getting  dark.  The  Old  Orchard  lay  before 
her,  a  gloomy  waste.  Who  could  tell  what  sort 
of  'Fraid  Things  might  lurk  behind  the  trees  ?  A 
wind  had  come  up,  and  the  boughs  creaked  omi- 
nously. It  was  time  for  earnest  prayer  and  for 
swift  running. 

Rachel  both  prayed  and  ran,  and  nothing  hap- 
pened. Something  did  happen,  however,  when 
she  opened  the  front  door  at  home,  and,  arrayed 
in  clothes  not  her  own  and  a  year  too  small,  she 
offered  the  satchel  to  Tutu. 

"Would  you  object  to  telling  where  you've 
been  since  two  o'clock  ?  "  asked  Tutu,  with  icy 
politeness ;  "  or  to  say  how  your  clothes  came  to 
shrink  up  above  your  knees?  Perhaps  that  is 
a  new  party  dress." 

"  I  do  not  think  she  will  need  a  party  dress 
to-night,"  said  her  mother,  sadly.  "  Little  girls 
who  run  away  cannot  expect  to  enjoy  parties. 
I  think,  my  dear,  I  can  read  the  story  of  this 
afternoon  in  your  face.  You  have  been  skating 
somewhere,  and  you  fell  in,  and  had  to  go  to  the 
Aunties  to  be  dried  and  warmed.  I  am  glad, 
indeed,  that  nothing  worse  happened  to  you ;  and 
I  am  glad  Grandmother's  silver  is  safe.     Does 


FETCHING  THE   SPOONS  143 

my  little  girl  like  to  think  of  what  might  have 
happened  to  the  things  trusted  to  her?  No, 
Rachel,  there  is  no  help  for  it.     You  must  go  to 

bed." 

At  quarter  to  eight  Rachel  could  hear  Sophy 
Jane  and  Jimmy  and  Paul  and  Molly  talking  to 
Dick  downstairs.     At  eight  o'clock  the  first  ring- 
ing of  the  bell  occurred,  and   then  it  rang  in 
quick  succession  until  almost  all  of  the  ninety 
people  bidden  to  the  party  had  arrived.     How 
pleasant  it  must  be  downstairs,  where  all   the 
talking  and  laughing  was  going  on  !    Rachel  could 
imagine  the  lights  in  the  lamps,  in  the  candlesticks, 
and  in  the  great  silver  candelabra.     She  could 
picture  to  herself  the  pretty  dresses  of  the  ladies. 
The  men,  she  knew,  had  on  the  coats  they  wore 
to  Church  on  Sunday,  so  there  was  no  need  to 
waste  time  thinking  about  them ;  but  had  Miss 
Emily  worn  her  pink  silk  gown,  and  had  Cousin 
Josephine  her  pearl  earrings  on  ?     Oh,  how  she 
wanted  to  know  !    Cousin  Josephine  was  a  bride  ; 
what  if  she  should  have  worn  her  wedding  dress  ! 
Somebody  played  on  the  piano,  "  Listen  to  the 
Mocking-bird,"  and    a  long  piece  with  a  great 
many  trills  and  runs.     Then  Miss  Emily  sang. 
People  who  had   heard  Jenny   Lind    sing,   said 


144     THE   DAY   BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

that  her  voice  was  no  more  beautiful  than  Miss 
Emily's.  It  was,  indeed,  hardly  possible  for  a 
voice  to  be  more  pure  and  sweet,  or  to  carry 
more  of  that  nameless  something  for  which  we 
have  no  better  word  than  charm.  Then  a  young 
man  with  a  bass  voice  sang.  It  almost  made 
one's  flesh  creep  to  hear  how  very  deep  his  tones 
could  go.  Then  the  Minister's  Wife  sang  a  very 
pretty  song,  and  then  everybody  sang  together 
three  or  four  songs,  —  "  Annie  Laurie,"  "  Bonny 
Doon,"  and  so  on,  while  she  played  the  accom- 
paniments.    It  was  a  very  agreeable  party. 

Rachel  began  to  smell  coffeCo  Tutu  never 
made  the  coffee  until  the  minute  it  was  needed. 
Yes,  the  music  had  stopped,  and  no  doubt  supper 
was  beginning. 

Rachel  buried  her  face  in  the  pillow.  If  only 
God  would  make  her  be  a  better  girl,  and  not 
let  Satan  tempt  her  to  neglect  her  duty  again ! 
Satan  was  so  big  and  strong,  and  she  was  only 
a  little  girl,  and  it  was  mean  of  him  to  make 
her  lose  the  party.  It  was  mean  in  herself,  she 
owned,  honestly.  Nobody  made  her  go  to  skate. 
It  had  been  her  own  idea ;  still,  it  was  very 
hard,  and  she  was  very  miserable. 

Merry    voices    floated    up    from    below,   and 


FETCHING   THE   SPOONS  145 

sounds  of  spoons  and  cups  and  glasses.  Rachel 
fancied  that  she  could  smell  things  —  even 
cocoanut  cake.  It  seemed  as  if  a  year  had 
passed  since  she  was  banished  to  the  chilly 
upper  room.      Then  she  heard  Dick  whisper  :  — 

"Tutu  said  you  couldn't  have  any  supper; 
but  here's  a  plate  with  half  of  mine  on  it.  I 
divided  even.    There's  going  to  be  lots  left  over." 

Rachel  sat  up  and  dried  her  now  radiant  eyes. 

«  You're  the  very  best  boy  in  all  the  world," 
she  said. 


CHAPTER   IX 
0  Ctiapter  ot  Calamitiesf 

One  of  the  many  pleasant  things  about  the 
Village  was  the  freedom  with  which  people  fol- 
lowed their  fancies.  Mrs.  Grundy,  it  is  true,  had 
her  part  to  play  in  the  regulation  of  the  general 
tone  of  Society,  and  a  few  persons  who  acted  as 
private  detectives  kept  watch  and  ward  over  the 
general  welfare  of  the  community;  but  a  very 
wide  latitude  was  permitted  in  the  following  of 
individual  tastes.  If  it  were  either  convenient 
or  necessary  that  a  family  drive  about  in  a 
chariot  so  old  that  long  before  the  horse  draw- 
ing it  came  into  view  the  rattling  of  the  bones 
of  the  ancient  vehicle  announced  its  coming ;  or 
if  it  were  thought  best  to  postpone  the  painting 
of  the  family  residence  until  it  had  weathered  to 
a  silvery  gray,  nobody  commented  or  criticised. 
So,  too,  people  kept  cows  or  dogs,  or  hens,  or 
geese  or  ducks,  as  pleased  them  or  not,  and  as 
everybody's  garden  was  guarded  by  a  good  fence, 

146 


A   CHAPTER   OF   CALAMITIES        147 

nobody  disapproved  of  the  live  stock.     Pigs  were 
distinctly  frowned  upon  ;  but  no  veracious  chroni- 
cler would  venture  to  state  that  so  far  as  the 
Village  was  concerned,  pigs  were  extinct  animals. 
They  did  their  grunting  behind  bars,  if  they  did 
it  at  all,  and  there  was  supposed  to  be  a  Con- 
stable  (whom    nobody    ever   saw),    who    would 
drive  an  errant  pig  to  a  Pound  (which  nobody 
ever  saw,  either)  if  he  found  one  straying  about. 
With  geese  and  ducks  it  was  different,  for  what 
with  either  the  Camp-pond,  or  the  Gypsy-pond, 
or  the  Muckshaw,  or  Clear  Lake,  within  easy  dis- 
tance  of  half   of    the  Village   houses,  it   would 
have    been  a  waste  of    privilege    not  to  own  a 
flock  of  the  fowls  so  beautiful  afloat,  so  ridicu- 
lous ashore. 

After  much  consideration  at  Oak  House  it 
was  decided  to  have  ducks.  They  could  be  kept 
in  the  hen  yard  when  they  came  home  at  night, 
and  would  add  a  pleasing  variety  to  that  part  of 
the  premises.  At  first  the  Doctor  objected,  even 
going  so  far  as  to  make  a  pun  about  not  liking  to 
hear  himself  called  a  quack  every  time  he  walked 
in  the  garden;  but  as  Tutu  and  the  children 
had  set  their  hearts  in  that  direction,  he  wisely 
gave  in.     To  two  trustworthy  hens  there  were 


148     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

intrusted,  therefore,  two  large  "sittings"  of  green- 
ish,  oily-looking  eggs,  and  the  waiting  period  began. 
It  took  a  long  time  for  the  eggs  to  hatch  out,  — 
ages.  The  boys,  at  the  risk  of  their  lives,  ousted 
the  clamorous  hens  many  times  each  day  to  look 
at  the  eggs,  which  looked  always  just  the  same, 
although  days  and  even  weeks  lagged  by.  Tutu, 
you  may  be  sure,  did  not  know  of  this.  It  would 
have  made  her  very  angry  to  know  that  her  hens 
were  being  disturbed.  The  ducks  were  to  be 
hers.  Part  of  the  forthcoming  broods  she  in- 
tended to  serve  on  the  family  table,  but  the 
greater  number  of  the  fowls  were  to  be  sold  for 
the  benefit  of  Foreign  Missions.  She  loved  For- 
eign Missions,  and  she  would  gladly  take  any 
pains  to  further  their  interests. 

The  children  were  not  especially  excited  on  the 
subject  of  Foreign  Missions,  but  they  were  wild 
for  the  eggs  to  be  hatched ;  and  when  Tutu  was 
forced  to  go  back  to  Canada  to  see  her  sister 
who  was  ill,  they  were  greatly  distressed  lest  the 
hens  put  oif  hatching  out  until  her  return. 

Rachel  hurt  her  foot.  It  was  not  a  dangerous 
hurt,  but  the  Doctor  said  that  she  must  stay  in 
bed.  She  would  be  safe  there,  and  she  would 
be  sure  not  to  be  safe  elsewhere.     So  he  bade 


A  CHAPTER  OF   CALAMITIES        149 

her  content  herself  with  bed  until  he  gave  her 
permission  to  get  up.     Take  it  all  in  all,  she  had 
a  very  pleasant  time.      Sophy  Jane  and  Molly 
came  to  see  her  every  day,    and  both  of   the 
Grandmothers,  and  almost  all  the  Aunts,  —  plain 
Aunts  and  Grand-aunts,  —  sent  all  sorts  of  good 
things  to  eat,  so  that  she  was  able  to  entertain 
her  visitors  in  fine  style.     All  of  her  favorite 
books  were  arranged  on  a  table  beside  the  little 
cot  which  had  been  placed  for  her  in  her  mother's 
chamber ;  and  when  different  ladies  sent  her  cro- 
cuses or  daffodils  and  other  Spring  flowers,  these 
were  put  beside  the  books.     Dick  read  aloud  to 
her  in  Captain  Bonneville's  Adventures;  and  al- 
though  she   felt  herself   too   old    for  dolls,  she 
spent  a  great  many  agreeable  hours  with  Daffy's 
paper  children.     If  one  must  have  dolls,  paper 
ones  are  best —  the  kind  made  out  of  writing 
paper,  painted  with  water  colors,  and  cut  out 
with   scissors.     If   one   gets  torn,  a  dozen   can 
easily  be   made   to  take  its  place.     The   dolls 
were  called  Grices,  after  a  family  of  real  chil- 
dren who  came  to  Sunday-school.     There  were, 
however,    many    more   paper   Grices    than   real 
ones.     It  seemed  as  if  Daffy  could  never  have 
enough  Grices. 


150  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

Dick  came  in,  jubilant.  The  duck  eggs  were 
hatched.  Oh,  my  !  but  they  were  funny-looking. 
Rachel  would  die  of  laughing  if  she  could  see 
their  solemn-looking  little  faces  and  their  funny 
bills.  As  for  their  feet,  they  were  the  most 
wonderful  feet  any  one  could  imagine.  Exactly 
like  a  real  duck's  foot. 

Rachel  began  to  cry.  She  begged  to  be  al- 
lowed to  hop  out  on  one  foot  to  the  barn,  just 
long  enough  to  see  the  ducks ;  but,  no ;  the  Doc- 
tor was  firm  in  his  opposition  to  any  hopping 
whatever,  and  poor  Rachel  was  forced  to  content 
herself  with  the  recitals  of  others  concerning  the 
perfections  of  the  ducks.     It  was  very  hard. 

The  next  day  was  Mary  Baily's  afternoon  out, 
and  the  Doctor's  Wife  was  reading  aloud  out  of 
one  of  the  little  volumes  of  Hans  Andersen's 
stories.  She  had  to  be  very  careful  not  to  do 
any  skipping.  The  little  girls  knew  exactly 
what  came  next  to  everything,  and  so  the  story 
could  not  be  shortened.  It  would  have  been  a 
pity  to  shorten  it,  since  every  word  written  by 
the  dear  old  Dane  was  filled  with  the  highest 
truth,  and  the  gentle  spirit  that  wove  the  deli- 
cate fancies  was  that  of  one  whose  angel  did 
always  behold  the  face  of  the  Father.     The  Doc- 


A   CHAPTER   OF   CALAMITIES        151 

tor's  Wife  loved  him  almost  as  much  as  the  chil- 
dren did  ;  but  sometimes  she  felt  that  it  would  be 
agreeable  to  do  a  little  skipping.  She  had  fin- 
ished the  history  of  The  Ugly  Duckling  —  chosen 
in  honor  of  the  new  arrivals  —  and  had  begun 
to  read  about  The  Twelve  Wild  Swans ;  but  the 
story  was  doomed  to  be  left  unfinished  that  day, 
for  Paul  came  down  from  the  Old  House,  to  say 
that  Grandmother  felt  very  unwell,  and  would 
the  Doctor  and  Aunt  Kitty  please  go  up  at  once. 

The  Doctor  was  out  on  his  rounds,  and  would 
not  be  back  before  five  o'clock.  Mrs.  Doctor  felt 
that  she  could  not  wait  so  long  before  knowing 
what  ailed  Grandmother ;  and  as  there  was  noth- 
ing in  Rachel's  condition  in  the  least  degree 
alarming,  she  decided  to  go  up  to  the  Old  House 
at  once,  leaving  word  for  the  Doctor  to  follow 
her  directly  he  returned,  when  she  would  drive 
down  with  him.  She  put  the  house  in  Dick's 
hands,  and  gave  him  strict  charges  to  keep 
Rachel  from  exerting  herself.  Rachel  also  prom- 
ised to  be  good  and  quiet,  and,  with  her  paint 
box,  her  scissors,  and  plenty  of  paper,  there  was 
no  reason  why  she  should  not  spend  the  after- 
noon very  contentedly  making  Grices. 

Dick  and  Paul  repaired  at  once  to  the  stable, 


152  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

where  the  nests  were  placed,  and  where  the 
hens  were  clucking  anxiously  at  their  strange 
fledglings.  The  two  old  creatures  seemed  to 
be  consulting  together,  as  human  mothers  might 
do,  over  some  juvenile  maladies  which  were 
beyond  their  ken.  On  pr-evious  Summers  both 
had  reared  broods  of  the  dearest,  downiest  little 
yellow  chicks,  which  had  proved  a  credit  to  their 
up-bringing;  and  although  hens  may  not  have 
the  longest  memories  in  the  world,  they  knew 
well  enough  that  those  darlings  had  neither  the 
feet  nor  the  bills  of  these  little  troublesome  fowls, 
nor  had  their  speech  such  a  peculiar  accent. 

The  hens  were  resolved  to  do  their  duty,  how- 
ever, and  resented  the  frequent  appearance  of 
the  excited  children,  who  demoralized  the  duck- 
lings sadly  by  their  proffers  of  affection.  They 
now  set  up  a  great  to-do,  and  spread  their  wings 
in  a  threatening  manner. 

The  boys  stood  with  their  hands  in  their 
trousers  pockets  and  discussed  the  ducks.  By 
reason  of  living  near  a  pond  much  frequented  by 
their  kindred,  Paul  felt  that  his  opinions  were 
of  value. 

^  "Have  they  been  in  swimming  yet?"  he 
asked. 


A  CHAPTER   OF   CALAMITIES        153 

"  No  ;  I  should  say  not.     They're  too  little." 

"  Indeed  they  are  not,  then.  Ducks  can  swim 
as  soon  as  they  are  born.  They  look  awful 
funny  paddling  about." 

Yes;  it  must  be  funny,  and  Dick  would  like 
to  see  them  swim  ;  but  he  did  not  think  his 
mother  would  like  him  to  carry  the  ducks  as  far 
as  the  Muckshaw,  and  besides  he  could  not  leave 
Rachel. 

"  Hasn't  Rachel  seen  them  yet  ?  " 

No ;  but  she  was  crazy  to  do  so. 

"  Ducks  can't  learn  to  swim,  if  they  are  not 
taken  to  water,"  observed  Paul.  "And  who 
would  have  old  land  ducks  ?  Might  as  well 
have  chickens  to  begin  with,  if  they've  got  to 
peck  and  cluck  about  a  barn  floor  all  their  lives. 
They've  got  to  begin  early,  or  maybe  the  hens'll 
teach  them  hen  ways,  and  then  they'll  be  no 
good  at  all.  I  say,  let's  take  them  into  Rachel's 
room  and  teach  them  to  swim  this  afternoon." 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Dick,  slowly. 

"  How !  In  a  tub,  boy.  We  can  carry  in  a 
tub  and  fill  it  with  w^ater  afterward,  and  then 
we'll  take  the  little  ducks  and  plump  them  in. 
It  will  be  great  fun,  and  it  will  be  grand  for 
Rachel." 


154     THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

Rachel  put  the  Grices  by  directly  the  new 
sport  was  proposed.  She  could  hardly  wait 
until  the  boys  brought  in  the  tub,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  they  simply  never  would  get  it  full  of 
water.  It  was  put  close  beside  the  cot  on  which 
Rachel  was  propped  up  with  pillows,  so  that  she 
could  have  the  best  possible  view.  The  carpet 
was  quite  wet  before  the  tub  was  full  enough. 
Daffy  took  the  towels  from  the  rack  and  tried  to 
sop  up  the  spilled  water.  She  only  got  herself 
wet,  and  spoiled  the  towels  —  Daffy  was  too  little 
to  sop. 

Then  the  boys  went  to  the  stable  again. 
They  were  gone  a  long  time.  One  boy  kept  the 
hens  at  bay,  while  the  other  darted  about  after 
the  ducklings.  The  little  things  were  very 
nimble,  and  it  seemed  as  if  they  would  never  all 
be  caught.  At  last  all  were  in  the  basket.  The 
hens  were  extremely  displeased,  and  expressed 
themselves  with  vigor.  If  they  had  been  real 
mothers  instead  of  step-mothers,  they  could  not 
have  taken  the  conduct  of  the  boys  more  to 
heart. 

«  Oh,  do  let  me  have  the  basket !  "  screamed 
Rachel,  as  the  boys  came  into  her  room.  ''  Oh, 
the  lovely  things  !     Oh,  boys,  did  you  ever  see 


A  CHAPTER   OF  CALAMITIES       156 

such  beauties  ?    Oh,  DafPy,  you  never  let  on  how 
perfect  they  were  !  " 

"  The  all-yellow  one  is  mine,"  said  Daffy ; 
"  the  one  with  the  little  black  parting  to  its 
hair.  Tutu  said  we  could  each  have  one  for  our 
own.     Mine  is  named  Henrietta." 

"Oh,  did  she  truly?  Then  I'm  going  to 
have  this  one  with  a  black  head.  Oh,  you  dear 
love!  You're  going  to  be  the  sweetest  duck 
ever  seen,  with  a  curly  tail,  and  green  on  your 
wings  and  your  head.  Perhaps  you'll  turn  into  a 
swan.  I  should  not  be  in  the  least  surprised  if  you 
do.  Your  name  is  Prince  Charming,  beauty,  and 
nobody  is  ever  going  to  eat  you  as  long  as  you  live." 

Prince  Charming  seemed  glad  to  hear  that, 
and  cuddled  down  by  Rachel's  chin  in  a  very 
contented  way.  The  whole  cot  was  overrun  with 
little  ducks,  squeaking  and  quacking. 

The  boys  were  eager  to  have  the  swimming 
begin,  and  there  was  now  more  darting  and 
clutching  on  their  part.  It  was  a  wonder  the 
birds  did  not  die  of  the  suffocation  or  the 
bruises  they  were  obliged  to  endure  before  they 
were  dropped,  one  by  one,  into  the  tub  of  pure 
water,  fresh  from  the  northwest  corner  of  the 
coldest  well  in  town. 


156     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

It  was  a  far  greater  wonder  to  see  them 
swim.  Directly  they  touched  the  water,  the 
little  paddles  began  working,  and  the  little 
bodies  floated  about  like  steam-tugs  in  a  harbor, 
busily  and  ceaselessly.  The  children  hung  over 
the  tub  in  an  agony  of  delight.  It  was  a  joy 
that  could  not  be  sated,  and  nothing  could 
exceed  the  agility  of  the  performing  ducks. 

"Henrietta's  got  to  come  out,"  said  Daffy. 
« I  want  to  hold  her ;  and  besides,  I  know  she's 
tired." 

"  Tired  ! "  the  boys  jeered ;  "  they  like  it  the 
best  kind,  all  of  them.  Ducks  stay  in  for  hours 
and  hours,  and  dive  about  like  anything." 

"These  fellows  haven't  dived  a  time,"  said 
Paul.  "I  told  you  those  old  hens  were  no 
good.  What  do  they  know  ?  It's  lucky  for  the 
ducks  that  I  came  down  to-day." 

"  I  should  think  they  ought  to  be  able  to 
dive,"  Dick  meditated.  "  If  you  hold  one  under 
water  for  a  minute,  he'll  find  how  nice  it  is, 
and  then  they'll  all  want  to  dive.  Perhaps  the 
reason  they  haven't  tried  is  because  they  have 
nothing  to  dive  for." 

One  was  held  under,  and  then  another ;  but 
there    seemed    to    be   no    incentive    to    further 


A   CHAPTER   OF   CALAMITIES        157 

divings,  either  on  their  part  or  that  of  their 
mates. 

« I  tell  you  they  have  nothing  to  dive  for," 
insisted  Dick.  "Real  ducks  are  always  after 
eomething  to  eat,  dow^n  in  the  bottom  of  the  pond, 
—  Polliwogs  and  things,  —  and  they're  lucky 
if  a  snapping-turtle  does  not  get  them  when 
they  do  it.     You  go  out  and  get  some  corn." 

The  corn  was  procured,  and  shone,  yellow  and 
bright,  in  the  little  shifting  spaces  between  the 
swiftly  paddling  ducks,  who  took  no  notice  of 
it.  It  might  as  well  have  been  a  handful  of 
pebbles  for  all  they  cared. 

"  Hold  another  under,  Paul." 

"  Not  Prince  Charming,"  shrieked  Rachel.  "  I 
do  not  wish  him  to  be  a  diving  duck,  and  he 
shall  not  be  taught.  A  snapping-turtle  might 
get  him.     He  shall  not  be  taught." 

"  Give  me  my  Henrietta,"  demanded  Daffy. 
"  She  is  too  little  to  eat  corn,  and  she  wants 
this  lump  of  sugar.     Come,  Henrietta  ! " 

Henrietta  was  at  the  farther  side  of  the  tub, 
and,  besides  being  too  little  to  eat  corn,  had  not 
yet  learned  to  understand  English.  It  would 
have  been  too  much  to  expect  of  a  duck  not  two 
days  old  that  it  understand  English  as  well  as 


158  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

the  duck-and-hen   languages.      So   she   did   not 
come. 

Daffy  leaned  a  little  too  far,  and  into  the  water 
she  fell,  heels  over  head. 

Rachel  shrieked  again ;  but  before  Daffy  knew 
she  was  in,  she  was  out  again,  wet  and  frightened. 
Then  she  began  to  howl. 

"Oh,  hush,  for  mercy's  sake.  Daffy!"  said 
Dick,  who  began  to  look  forward  instead  of 
backward.  "Hush,  Daffy!  Rachel,  can't  you 
crawl  out  far  enough  to  unbutton  her  back  ? 
Let  her  put  on  her  nightgown  and  get  into  bed 
with  you  till  somebody  comes  to  dress  her.  I 
can't.  What  do  boys  know  about  a  girl's  non- 
sensical buttons  and  strings?  Get  into  bed, 
Daffy,  like  a  good  little  girl,  and  I'll  catch 
Henrietta,  and  you  can  play  with  her  up  there. 
Four  o'clock !  Paul,  maybe  the  ducks  have  had 
paddling  enough." 

The  hens  expressed  themselves  loudly  and  in 
great  displeasure  when  their  charges  were  re- 
turned to  them.  They  were  so  busy  trying  to 
hover  the  poor  little  things  that  they  did  not 
peck  at  the  boys,  as  they  had  done  earlier  in 
the  day  ;  although  if  the  truth  be  told,  they  were 
now    much    more   peckworthy,    and    the    long 


A   CHAPTER   OF   CALAMITIES        159 

patience  and  many  cares  of  the  good  old  hens 
were  quite  wasted  because  of  their  folly. 

Paul  came  down  the  next  day  to  see  the  ducks 
paddle  again,  but  there  was  no  paddling,  and  for 
the  ducks  there  had  been  no  next  day.  In  spite 
of  all  that  the  Doctor  and  his  Wife  and  Mary 
Baily  and  the  hens  could  do,  not  one  of  the 
little  creatures  survived  the  cold  water  and  the 
exercise  prescribed  by  their  friends.  Twenty- 
one  little  brown  and  yellow  corpses  lay  on  the 
stable  floor,  and  all  —  except  Henrietta,  whose 
body  had  been  rescued  by  the  weeping  Daffy  — 
found  a  common  grave  under  the  currant  bushes. 

The  Doctor  had  his  own  w^ay  of  teaching 
honor.  He  watched  the  boys  levelling  down 
the  soil  after  their  sad  task  was  ended. 

"They  were  not  your  ducks,  you  know,"  he 
said.  "  Tutu  had  bought  the  eggs,  and  you  know 
what  she  had  planned  to  do  with  the  duck 
money." 

Then  he  went  on  into  his  office. 

Dick  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  There's  only  one  thing  to  do,"  he  said.  « If 
those  old  hens  w411  sit  again,  we've  got  to  give 
them  some  more  ducks'  eggs,  and  let  them  hatch 
out  two  more  broods.     They  only  had  the  ducks 


160     THE  DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

two  days,  so  maybe  they'll  forget  that  they  had 
them  at  all,  and  will  be  willing  to  sit  again. 
I'm  going  out  to  the  Addition  now  to  see  if  I 
can  buy  more  eggs." 

« I  shall  pay  for  half,"  said  Paul ;  « I  was 
the  one  that  proposed  the  game.  I  have  ten 
cents  in  my  pocket  this  minute.  Yesterday 
was  Pay-day." 

That  cheered  Dick  not  a  little.  He  also  had 
ten  cents  left  over  from  Pay-day ;  and  as  Rachel 
had  had  several  presents  of  pennies  since  her 
accident,  and  was  wild  to  possess  another  Prince 
Charming,  she  added  five  cents  to  the  store. 
Ducks'  eggs  were  a  penny  apiece,  and  Rachel 
thought  there  would  be  four  cents  left  over 
after  twenty-one  ducks'  eggs  were  purchased  in 
hope  of  replacing  the  twenty-one  martyrs,  and 
proposed  that  the  boys  spend  this  sum  for  mint- 
sticks.  Dick  said  no ;  twenty-five  eggs  should 
be  bought,  as  some  might  not  hatch  out  into 
ducks,  and  they  owed  Tutu  twenty-one  ducks. 

Daffy  held  her  duckling  to  her  breast.  She 
was  sure  it  would  have  grown  to  be  a  hand- 
some duck.  Its  black  hair-parting  would  have 
given  it  a  most  distinguished  appearance.  She 
could  not  be  consoled. 


A   CHAPTER   OF   CALAMITIES        161 

Molly  and  Betty  now  came  down,  bringing 
Rachel  some  marmalade  —  enough  marmalade, 
indeed,  to  spread  on  six  slices  of  buttered 
bread.  Mary  Baily  soon  prepared  the  bread, 
and  the  thick  marmalade  was  plastered  on  by 
Molly  herself.  The  boys  started  off  happily, 
carrying  an  empty  basket  between  them,  and 
munching  the  treat  as  they  walked  along. 

Daffy  and  Betty  went  out  into  the  garden. 
They  did  not  feel  much  like  playing,  with  the 
dead  duckling  pressed,  limp  and  cold,  to 
Daffy's  sad  little  heart.  They  walked  about 
and  looked  at  the  Spring  flowers  in  the  borders, 
—  hyacinths  and  jonquils,  dwarf  iris  and  crim- 
son-spotted cowslips.  Each  child  had  its  own 
flower-bed.  In  Dick's  stood  the  monument  of 
a  rabbit  he  had  loved  and  lost  long  since.  A 
Stonecutter,  with  whom  he  was  on  good  terms, 
had  made  the  nice  little  tombstone.  He  had 
cut  "Our  Rabbit"  on  it  in  large  letters. 
The  rabbit  had  really  been  Dick's  private 
property,  and  he  could  have  had  the  Stone- 
cutter put  on  "  My  "  with  perfect  propriety  ;  but 
this  would  have  excluded  the  little  sisters,  who 
had  loved  the  rabbit  tenderly,  and  mourned  for 
him    sincerely,    from    a    seeming    share    in    the 


162  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

monument,  and  this  Dick  did  not  wish  to  do. 
When  Betty  saw  the  tombstone,  she  had  an 
idea. 

"Let's  have  a  funeral  for  Henrietta." 

"Rachel's  sick,"  objected  Daffy,  who  could 
imagine  no  pleasure  without  her  sister's  presence. 

"  Well,  what  of  it  ?  We  needn't  have  a  big 
funeral.  It's  only  for  a  small  duck,  and  you 
and  I  will  do  very  well  by  ourselves.  I'm 
tired  of  being  ordered  about  by  those  big  girls." 

Betty  spied  a  trowel  and  fell  to  digging. 

Daffy  became  interested. 

"Mother  said  we  might  pick  one  of  every 
kind  of  flower,"  she  said.  "  We  can  make  Henri- 
etta a  nice  little  bed  of  hyacinths,  and  cover 
her  up  with  cowslips." 

So  they  might. 

"We've  got  to  sing  and  pray,"  said  Betty. 
«  I  would  not  feel  as  if  we'd  done  the  right 
thing  by  Henrietta  if  we  didn't." 

Yes;  they  must  sing  and  pray,  and  say  a 
Verse.  They  began  to  think  of  the  hymns 
they  knew,  and  as  she  thought,  Daffy's  hand 
went  into  her  apron  pocket.  It  was  nearly 
filled  with  Grices.  She  stood  them  up  in  a 
row  against  a  brick  near  the  grave.     It  seemed 


A   CHAPTER   OF   CALAMITIES        163 

to  make  Henrietta's  funeral  more  important, 
having  so  many  spectators.  The  Grices  did 
not  seem  at  all  sorry,  but  that  was  because 
Rachel  had  painted  all  their  mouths  in  the 
shape  of  a  smile.  It  was  not  the  fault  of  the 
Grices  that  they  looked  so  cheerful. 

"Do  you  know  the  song  about  the  moun- 
tain, Betty?  Rachel  likes  that  one  best  of 
all  our  songs." 

Yes;  Betty  knew  it,  so  they  sang:  — 

"  Like  the  mist  on  the  mountain, 
Like  the  foam  on  the  sea, 
So  short  shall  the  days  of  our  pilgrimage  be." 

Then  Daffy  said  her  Verse.  Perhaps  she  did 
not  quote  her  Author  quite  correctly,  but  she 
left  out  none  of  His  spirit  when  she  said :  — 

"Suffer  little  birdies  to  come  unto  Me,  and 
forbid  them  not,  for  there  is  room  for  them  in 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 

The  little  maids  knelt  down  and  said, 
"Now  I  lay  me,"  and  then  the  little  duckling 
was  left  to  the  wonderful  and  beautiful  pro- 
cesses, by  which,  having  had  its  little  day,  it 
passed  to  new  uses. 

Daffy's  was  a  faithful  little  heart.  The  fresh 
sittings  of  eggs  were  duly  hatched  out  by  the 


164     THE   DAY   BEFORE    YESTERDAY 

forgiving  hens,  and  grew  into  handsome  ma- 
turity before  frost  came ;  but  none  took  the 
place  of  the  departed  Henrietta. 

"  No,"  said  Daffy,  in  answer  to  Tutu's  prof- 
fered gift.  "  I  am  not  going  to  love  any  more 
ducks." 

She  had  on  that  account  all  the  more  affec- 
tion to  bestow  upon  the  puppy,  which  was 
presented  by  the  little  girls  at  the  Last  Farm, 
and  it  was  on  account  of  this  pet,  that  the 
Doctor's  Wife  said  she  all  but  lost  her  religion. 
No  one  can  think  her  blameworthy  after  he 
hears  what  happened. 

The  puppy  was  named  Harry,  and  before 
Winter  had  grown  to  be  a  fine  large  dog.  He 
had  no  beauty  except  a  pair  of  great  loving 
eyes,  but  he  was  as  honest  as  it  is  possible 
for  a  dog  to  be,  and  he  would  not  let  a  cow 
come  anywhere  near  his  charges.  The  little 
girls  were  not  afraid  to  go  anywhere  w^ith 
Harry  along  to  protect  them,  and  as  he  was 
always  more  than  ready  to  accompany  them, 
they  went  to  many  places  they  had  hitherto 
thought  unsafe.  It  was  very  good  of  Harry  to 
give  up  his  own  plans  to  suit  those  of  the 
children,  for  he  was  a  very  busy  dog.     Besides 


A   CHAPTER   OF   CALAMITIES        165 

harrying  all  the  cows  who  w^ished  to  do  a  little 
foraging  in  his  end  of  the  Village,  and  chasing 
all  the  ducks  except  Tutu's  ducks,  he  policed 
the  street  in  front  of  Oak  House  so  that  no 
other  dogs  ventured  to  loiter  about  there.  In  a 
very  short  while  no  dogs  even  passed  that  way, 
Harry  was  so  uncivil  to  them.  If  they  had  any 
errands  dowm  town,  they  went  by  a  back  street. 

As  for  the  country  dogs,  they  almost  gave  up 
coming  to  town  at  all.  They  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  trotting  in  under  their  masters'  wagons, 
now  and  then,  and  seeing  a  little  life  in  that 
way.  It  was  a  diversion  from  the  monotony  of 
farm  life.  After  they  became  acquainted  with 
Harry,  they  decided  that  they  did  not  care  to  see 
life,  if  the  price  to  be  paid  was  a  fight  with 
Harry,  in  which  they  were  sure  to  be  worsted ; 
and  so,  when  the  wagons  loaded  with  wheat  or 
corn  or  hay  turned  toward  the  Village,  the  farm 
dogs  had  pressing  business  elsewhere,  and  the 
horses  went  on  alone. 

The  boys  admired  Harry  immensely.  They 
would  have  given  anything  if  he  had  been  their 
dog,  and  they  offered  Daffy  everything  they  could 
think  of  if  she  would  give  him  up.  She  was 
firm  in  her  refusals ;  and  so,  although  the  boys 


166     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

had  him  about  with  them  whenever  they  liked, 
the  real  ownership  was  vested  in  Daffy. 

A  very  ugly  brindled  dog  came  to  town  one 
day,  a  bull-dog.  Harry  rushed  out  to  attack 
him,  with  all  the  courage  in  the  world,  but  for 
once  he  had  mistaken  his  foe.  The  fight  was  in 
front  of  the  Blacksmith's  shop,  and  was  so  excit- 
ing that  all  the  workmen  came  out  to  look  at  it. 
The  Farmer  who  owned  the  bull-dog  stopped  his 
horses,  and  sat  in  the  wagon  enjoying  the  sport. 
In  spite  of  the  encouragement  of  Harry's  friends, 
the  Blacksmiths,  the  bull-dog  won  the  fight,  and 
poor  Harry  went  home  with  a  badly  damaged 
ear. 

The  ear  healed,  but  it  was  constantly  being 
hurt  again.  Harry  had  continual  hallucinations 
on  the  subject  of  fleas,  and  every  time  he 
scratched  his  ear,  he  fairly  howled  with  the  pain 
of  the  freshly  wounded  flesh. 

It  was  Sacrament  Sunday,  and  it  was  very 
cold.  Deep  snow  lay  everywhere.  Mary  Baily 
usually  went  to  Early  Mass  on  such  occasions ; 
but  on  this  day  the  drifts  prevented,  and  she 
waited  until  later,  when  paths  should  have  been 
cut.  There  would  be  a  late  dinner,  for  Tutu 
could  not  miss  going  to  Church  any  more  than 


A  CHAPTER   OF  CALAMITIES       167 

could  the  Doctor  or  his  wife.  It  was  decided 
that  Dick  and  Rachel  were  quite  old  enough  to 
be  left  in  charge  of  the  house.  Some  one  always 
had  to  stay  to  answer  the  bell,  and  to  tell 
patients  when  the  Doctor  would  be  back,  or 
where  he  might  then  be  found  if  it  were  an 
emergency  case.  Daffy  was  to  go  to  Church. 
It  was  felt  that  she  would  be  safer  there. 

The  older  children  were  much  disappointed 
because  they  could  not  go.  The  Holy  Supper 
was  administered  only  three  or  four  times  a  year, 
and  they  liked  exceedingly  to  sit  in  one  of  the 
side  pews  and  observe  the  rite.  It  was  very 
solemn.  The  Minister  prayed  with  more  than 
usual  fervor ;  the  hymns  were  more  than  usually 
grave.  There  were  few  outward  aids  to  faith 
in  the  plain  House  of  God,  and  perhaps  this 
made  it  all  the  more  possible  that  one  could 
almost  see  the  bare,  upper  room  in  Jerusalem, 
and  the  little  group  of  poor  workingmen  sitting 
at  their  simple  evening  meal,  their  faces  lighted 
by  the  flare  of  a  few  oil  lamps,  and  earnest  and 
bewildered  by  the  strange  things  one  of  their 
number  was  saying.  He  was  a  Carpenter,  and 
they  were  nearly  all  of  them  Fishermen.  One 
could  almost   hear  the   beautiful,  tender  Voice 


168     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

blessing  that  first  loaf  of  consecrated  Bread,  and 
filling  with  Wine  that  first  Cup  of  Remem- 
brance ;  and  one  longed  to  be  found  worthy  at 
the  last  to  sit  down  at  the  Marriage-feast  of  the 
Lamb. 

The  men  sat,  with  gravely  bowed  heads.  The 
women  dropped  their  veils,  and  many  of  them 
wept  softly  thinking  of  loved  ones  who  had 
"  gone  away."  The  Elder  of  the  Church  walked 
slowly  and  reverently  up  and  down  the  aisles, 
passing  the  Elements.  Each  head  was  bent,  as 
the  mystical  symbols  were  received.  It  was  a 
pure  and  true  worship,  and  was,  without  doubt, 
accepted  by  the  Searcher  of  Hearts. 

The  family  had  not  been  long  gone.  The  bells 
had  just  ceased  tolling.  The  children  were  look- 
ing out  of  the  windows,  choosing  horses,  as  the 
country  people  drove  by.  The  game  was  to  cry 
out  '*  I  choose !  "  when  a  horse  was  heard  com- 
ing. The  one  who  cried  out  first  made  believe 
to  own  the  horse.  If  it  turned  out  to  be  a  fine, 
high-spirited  animal,  one  was  in  luck ;  but  if  it 
were  a  clumsy  work-horse,  with  a  thick  winter 
coat  of  ungroomed  hair,  one  was  jeered  at  and 
ashamed.  It  was  a  very  good  game,  but  it  w^as 
not  exactly  a  Sunday  game.    Perhaps  it  was  not 


A   CHAPTER   OF   CALAMITIES        169 

really  wicked,  since  all  the  horses  were  on  their 
way  to  Church. 

Harry  was  asleep  by  the  kitchen  fire.  He  had 
a  bad  dream  about  fleas,  and  immediately  began 
to  scratch  his  head.  Then  he  gave  a  loud  howl. 
The  ragged  scrap  of  flesh  hung  almost  free  from 
his  ear. 

Dick  and  Rachel  ran  to  comfort  him,  but  still 
Harry  howled. 

After  an  examination  of  the  injury,  Dick 
spoke  firmly :  — 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  to  do,  and  that  is  cut 
off  the  bad  part,  and  there  will  never  be  a  better 
time  than  this  to  do  it." 

"  Daffy  won't  let  us." 

"That's  just  it.  Every  time  Harry  hurts 
himself,  Daffy  cries ;  and  now  we'll  just  do  it, 
and  everything'll  be  all  right  when  she  gets  home." 

"  It's  Sunday,"  objected  Rachel. 

"Don't  Father  do  things  for  people  on  Sun- 
day, I'd  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  You're  not  Father." 

Dick  helped  himself  to  the  scissors  in  Tutu's 
basket. 

"  Never  mind.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  leave 
the  kitchen." 


170  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

This  Rachel  willingly  did.  She  was  a  great 
coward,  and  she  hated  pain. 

"Don't  hurt  him,"  she  called  over  her  shoul- 
der. Then  she  put  a  finger  into  each  ear,  and 
looked  at  the  clock. 

"  He  can't  howl  for  more  than  five  minutes," 
she  reasoned ;  "I  wouldn't  myself,  for  such  a 
little  piece  of  skin.  I'll  keep  corked  up  until 
five  minutes  are  over." 

When  she  took  her  fingers  down,  she  heard 
Dick  calling :  — 

"  Why  don't  you  come  ?  I'm  tired  of  scream- 
mg." 

"  I  didn't  hear  you.     I  was  all  corked  up." 

"Well,  come  now." 

Dick  was  pale  enough  to  scare  anybody. 

"  It  hardly  hurt  him  a  bit,"  he  explained ; 
"but  I  never  saw  so  much  blood.  We've  got 
to  stop  it.     Do  you  know  how  ?  " 

Rachel  considered. 

"  When  I  had  toothache.  Tutu  tied  on  a  piece 
of  fat  bacon,"  she  said.  "  Teeth  and  ears  are 
both  part  of  your  head,  so  I  suppose  that  would 
be  the  best  thing." 

There  was  plenty  of  bacon  in  the  pantry ; 
string  alsOo     Rachel  returned  with  both.     Harry 


A  CHAPTER   OF   CALAMITIES        171 

did  not  seem  to  mind  it  at  all.  He  was  accus- 
tomed to  the  sight  of  gore,  but  it  was  usually 
the  gore  of  others.  He  seemed  to  think  there 
had  been  a  fight;  and  as  there  was  no  other 
dog  about,  it  was  probably  demolished.  He 
was  in  a  very  pleasant  frame  of  mind. 

"Tie  on  the  bacon,  Rachel,  while  I  hold  his 
head." 

If  one  has  never  tried  to  perform  such  a  task, 
one  has  no  ideas  of  its  difficulty.  Harry  was 
patience  itself.  He  allowed  Rachel  to  try  at 
least  twenty  different  ways,  but  none  of  them 
succeeded. 

Rachel  then  held  Harry  by  the  collar,  and 
Dick  tried  another  twenty  ways,  with  no  other 
result  than  the  ruin  of  his  Sunday  linen. 

Rachel  was  a  sight ;  so  were  the  white  parts 
of  Harry's  coat ;  so  were  the  towels ;  so  was 
the  floor.     Dick  was  in  terror. 

"  Let  the  dog  go,"  he  commanded.  "  Pm 
going  to  take  him  outside  and  hold  snow  to  his 
ear.  You'd  better  clean  up.  There  won't  be 
much  left  of  us,  if  Tutu  sees  all  this  mess.  Do 
make  haste." 

Rachel  made  haste.  She  spilled  water  over 
everything,   and  dragged  the   mop   and   broom 


172     THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

about  with  vigor.  She  worked  very  hard,  but 
the  harder  she  worked  the  worse  things  grew. 

Dick  came  in  ;  the  snow,  or  the  cold,  or  what 
not,  had  stanched  the  flow,  and  Harry  was  him- 
self again. 

"  Do  you  call  that  cleaning  ?  "  he  demanded. 
"It's  worse  by  far  than  it  was  before.  You'd 
better  —  " 

The  Doctor's  key  was  in  the  door.  Harry 
bounded  forward.  Daffy  gave  a  loud  wail  of 
anguish.  The  family  hastened  through  the  doors 
that  had  been  left  open. 

«I  leave  you  to  imagine  my  feelings,"  said 
the  Doctor's  Wife  to  Sophy  Jane's  mother.  "  I 
had  been  so  lifted  up  by  the  worship,  and  had 
come  away  so  comforted,  so  happy,  so  grateful, 
so  full  of  love  for  everybody,  and  so  resolved 
to  carry  my  new  heart  into  my  old  life,  and 
that  was  what  I  found  waiting  for  me.  I  nearly 
lost  all  the  religion  I  ever  had,  I  was  so  pro- 
voked, and  yet  I  could  not  keep  from  laughter 
when  that  poor,  dear  Dick  began  to  explain. 
<  We  wanted  to  cure  Daffy's  dog,'  he  said.  « We 
thought  it  would  be  such  a  pleasant  surprise.' " 


CHAPTER   X 

There  was,  perhaps,  never  in  the  world  a 
better  place  to  be  born  in  than  was  the  Village. 
No  sane  child  could  have  formed  a  wish  the 
fulfilment  of  which  was  not  ready  to  his  hand. 
The  cheerful  and  the  changeful  pages  of  the 
Seasons  were  here  turned  with  a  confidence  born 
of  knowledge  that  if  one  good  went,  another 
came ;  if  the  joys  of  Winter  were  past,  those  of 
Spring  were  just  as  sweet.  School,  of  course, 
was  an  ever  present  evil,  and  had  to  be  endured 
for  a  certain  period  of  each  day ;  but  it  was 
reduced  to  its  minimum  capacity  for  inflicting 
injury  by  the  many  and  great  blessings  of  the 
hours  of  freedom,  when  the  boys  and  girls  turned 
to  beautiful,  bountiful  old  Mother  Nature,  and 
were  comforted. 

About  the  Village  there  were  woods  and  fields 
and  marshes,  there  were  ponds,  crystal-clear,  with 
islands  lying  on  their  fair  bosoms,  with  sandy 

173 


174     THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

cliffs  where  kingfishers  and  sand-swallows  bored 
their  nests,  and  with  fish  ready  for  every  hook. 
Apparently,  on  purpose  to  suit  the  boys,  bridges 
were  built  over  the  most  convenient  fishing 
places,  and  along  the  shady  banks  there  were 
occasional  fallen  trees  which  made  even  better 
perches  for  a  boy  and  a  rod.  Worms  of  most 
acceptable  fatness  for  bait  could  be  dug  in 
almost  everybody's  yard ;  and  from  the  time  the 
first  polliwog  began  to  wiggle  in  the  marshes, 
until  the  last  muskrat  retired  to  his  domed  house 
for  the  Winter,  there  was  a  constantly  varying 
field  of  activity  for  the  energy  of  the  boys. 

At  the  foot  of  the  street  on  which  the  Doctor's 
alley  opened,  there  was  a  pond  to  which  Dick 
rode  old  Charley  for  water.  This  duty  he  not 
infrequently  turned  to  profit  by  trading  off  so 
many  rides  on  behind  for  things  which  other 
boys  had  to  swap.  They  always  said  "  swap  "  ; 
so  even  although  it  is  not  so  elegant  a  word  as 
barter,  it  would  hardly  be  fair  to  the  boys  to 
leave  it  out,  when  speaking  of  their  transactions. 
It  took  Dick  four  weeks'  worth  of  rides  to  pay 
the  boy  on  the  next  corner  for  a  pair  of  stilts, 
and  long  before  the  time  was  over,  he  had  left 
off  caring  for  stilts,  so  it  seemed  a  little  hard 


"JOYS   THAT   WE'VE   TASTED"      175 

to  be  still  compelled  to  pay  for  them  in  rides. 
He  was  an  honest  boy,  however,  and  he  paid 
every  ride,  and  even  gave  the  boy  a  nest  of  little 
red  paper  pill-boxes  out  of  the  Doctor's  drawer 
to  boot.  These  pill-boxes  were  very  desirable 
possessions,  and  the  command  of  a  limited  num- 
ber of  them  gave  Dick  a  valued  prestige  among 
his  fellows.  The  children  were  not  so  fond  of 
them  when  their  mothers  had  sent  for  the  Doc- 
tor professionally,  and  he  had  presented  one 
filled  with  nasty-tasting  little  pellets,  and  had 
written  on  top :  "  For  Jack.  One  after  each 
meal." 

At  the  side  of  the  watering  place  between  that 
and  the  strip  of  shore  which  was  the  boys'  swim- 
ming place,  there  was  a  great  plantation  of  yel- 
low dock.  Aristocratic  water  lilies  floated,  white 
and  pure,  in  clearer,  farther  waters,  things  of 
beauty  and  of  mystery,  and  types  of  much  that 
the  children  would  come  to  know  later ;  while  the 
docks  were  frankly  vulgar  plants,  and  loved 
the  thick,  rich  mud  and  rank  odors  near  shore. 
Nobody  ever  desired  a  bouquet  of  their  hard,  yel- 
low, knobby  flowers,  but  —  it  was  dreadful,  but 
it  was  true  —  almost  all  the  boys  liked  the  spat- 
ter-docks of  the  Muckshaw  better  than  they  did 


176      THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

the  lilies,  and  this  for  a  reason  which  was  dread- 
ful also  —  their  stems  were  better  to  smoke. 

Even  Tutu  seemed  not  to  suspect  why  the 
boys  had  often  such  messy  spots  on  their  jacket 
linings,  or  their  cotton  waists  ;  but  it  was  really 
because  they  stuffed  their  blouses  with  the  oozy 
dock  stems,  which  were,  directly  opportunity 
offered,  spread  on  the  veranda  roof  to  dry. 
They  had  plans  of  what  to  say  in  case  Tutu 
found  them  there ;  but  somehow  she  never  did. 

Sophy  Jane  knew  of  the  stems,  and  she  held 
her  knowledge  as  a  whip  over  the  boys. 

"  If  you  don't  give  us  as  many  as  we  want, 
and  let  us  smoke  too,  I  shall  tell,  and  then  you'll 
see,"  she  threatened.  "  It's  no  worse  for  us  to 
smoke  than  it  is  for  you.  The  Minister  smokes. 
Rachel  and  I  are  as  big  as  you  are,  and  our 
stomachs  are  as  strong  as  horses,  so  you  needn't 
keep  saying  it  will  make  us  sick.  It  did  make 
Paul  sick  ?     Well,  it  won't  make  us." 

So  it  was  arranged  that  Sophy  Jane  and 
Rachel  should  attend  the  Smoker. 

Not  every  day,  even  after  the  lily  stems  had 
dried  to  a  proper  dryness,  was  there  a  chance  to 
smoke.  Somebody  was  always  sure  to  be  about. 
It  was  certainly  strange  what  a  faculty  for  being 


"JOYS   THAT   WE'VE   TASTED"      177 

about  the  Elders  had,  especially  Tutu.  At 
last  a  very  good  day  carae.  It  was  Saturday. 
The  Doctor  was  obliged  to  take  a  long  drive  to 
minister  to  an  ill  person,  and  as  the  day  was 
fine  he  invited  Mrs.  Doctor  to  drive  with  him. 
Mrs.  Doctor,  in  turn,  invited  Daffy  to  be  of  the 
party,  so  they  set  off  early  in  the  afternoon. 
The  children  were  told,  as  usual,  to  be  good. 
Usually  they  were  also  told  not  to  play  with 
matches ;  but  on  this  day,  by  some  happy  chance, 
the  matches  were  omitted  from  the  final  injunc- 
tions.    It  seemed  an  especial  Providence. 

Sophy  Jane  and  Jimmy  arrived.  They  told 
Tutu  they  could  stay  two  hours.  They  seemed 
especially  quiet,  and  as  Sophy  had  a  copy  of  a 
very  favorite  story-book  under  her  arm.  Tutu  got 
it  into  her  head  that  the  children  would  sit 
quietly  on  the  porch  and  listen  to  the  story  of 
The  Proud  Girl  Humbled  or  of  John  True. 

Tutu  went  up  to  her  room  with  a  basket  of 
stockings  to  mend.  There  were  a  great  many 
holes  in  the  stockings  that  week,  and  mending 
them  would  take  two  hours  at  least. 

The  time  had  come. 

Jimmy  had  brought  a  pocketful  of  matches, 
so  there  should  be  no  hitch  in  the  proceedings. 


178     THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

Dick  had  all  the  dried  stems  laid  neatly  in  an 
old  cigar-box.     It  made  them  seem  like  the  real 

thing. 

"  We  daren't  smoke  here  on  the  steps,  or  even 
in  the  garden,"  said  Jimmy,  cautiously.  "  Smoke 
smells  so,  and  Tutu's  got  the  longest  nose  for 
smells  that  ever  v^as  made." 

"  The  woodshed  loft,"  suggested  Sophy  Jane. 
«  Mother  never  v^ill  let  Chris  smoke  out  there 
when  he  cuts  the  firewood,"  said  Rachel.     "  And 
as  for  the  barn  —  " 

"Let's  go  and  sit  in  the  alley  behind  the 
barn,"  proposed  Jimmy;  "then  if  anybody 
catches  us,  we  can  run." 

Dick  hugged  the  box  up  to  his  blouse. 
"  If  everybody  isn't  going  to  be  fair,  there  isn't 
going  to  be  any  smoking,"  he  announced.     "  If 
we're   caught,    we'll   all   be    caught  alike,   and 
nobody  is  going  to  run." 
Yes ;  they  agreed  to  be  fair. 
They  could  have  gotten  into  the  alley  by  sev- 
eral easy  ways ;  but  there  was  also  a  hard  way, 
over  a  high  picket  fence.  They  chose  the  hard  way. 
The  boys  got  over  quickly  and  safely.     Sophy 
Jane    tore   her   apron,    and  Rachel  skinned  her 
knee.     The  Doctor  once  said  that  he  wondered 


"JOYS   THAT   WE'VE   TASTED"      179 

how  Rachel  would  look  with  all  her  skin  on. 
Rachel  could  not  imagine. 

The  boys  found  a  board  and  turned  it  clean 
side  up  against  the  stable  wall.  Then  they  all 
sat  down. 

Jimmy  counted  out  the  matches ;  four  for 
each ;  Dick  counted  out  the  stems :  four  for 
each.  The  rest  were  to  be  saved  imtil  the  next 
time. 

They  lighted  the  cigars  and  sat  in  a  row, 
puffing  away. 

"  This  is  grand,"  said  Jimmy. 

"  Perfectly  delicious,"  sighed  Sophy  Jane. 

Dick  smoked  in  silence. 

"  I'm  —  not  much  used  to  it  yet,"  admitted 
Rachel.  "My  cigar  keeps  going  out,  and  I've 
used  up  all  my  matches.  Give  me  another, 
Jim." 

Jimmy  had  used  but  one  of  his,  so  he  gave  one 
to  Rachel. 

They  could  hear  Tutu  singing  upstairs :  — 

"  Y-e-s,  I'm  —  glad  —  I'm  —  in  —  this  —  army, 
Y-e-s,  I'm  —  glad  —  I'm  —  in  —  this — army, 
And  I'll  battle  —  for  —  the  —Lord." 

A  valiant  member  of  the  Church  Militant  was 
Tutu,  and   she  meant   every  word  of   the  loud 


180     THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

hymn.  People  had  not  begun  to  talk  about  the 
strenuous  life,  in  those  days  ;  but  if  ever  a  woman 
was  strenuous,  that  woman  was  Tutu. 

Dick  smoked  steadily  on.  He  was,  it  was 
true,  quite  pale,  and  a  line  of  pain  shadowed  his 
beautiful  great  eyes.  He  had  finished  two 
stems,  and  was  beginning  on  the  third. 

Sophy  Jane  puffed  away  with  the  air  of  a 
connoisseur.  There  was  but  little  flavor  to  the 
dried  stalks ;  but  her  vivid  imagination  supplied 
all  that  the  stem  lacked.  She  was  having  a 
beautiful  time. 

Jimmy  and  Rachel  were  companions  in  du- 
plicity. They  hated  the  smoke,  and  their 
stomachs  felt  very  queer  ;  but  they  stood  by  their 
colors.  Both  felt  that  to  confess  to  disappoint- 
ment and  to  give  up,  would  be  unmanly.  Both 
wished,  above  all  things,  to  be  manly,  so  they 
made  a  pretence  of  being  charmed  with  their 
cigars. 

Nobody  said  much,  and  nobody  noticed  that 
Tutu  had  stopped  being  glad  she  was  in  an  army, 
and  wishing  to  battle  for  the  Lord. 

The  Town  Clock  struck  three. 

Jimmy  sighed.  There  was  a  whole  hour  left 
of  the  time  allotted  to  the  visit.     Would  Dick 


"JOYS   THAT   WE'VE   TASTED"      181 

expect   him  to  smoke  all  that   hour?     He  had 
nearly  three  stems  —  cigars  —  left. 

No;  Dick  would  expect  nothing.  The  barn- 
door opened  and  Tutu  stood  before  them.  Ap- 
parently there  would  be  no  future  for  any  of  them. 

"  Well,  I  never  !  "  said  Tutu. 

The  children  stood  up. 

"You  two  may  go  along  home,"  said  Tutu, 
with  withering  scorn.  "  Never  mind  about  the 
extra  hour.  You've  been  here  long  enough.  You 
can  do  as  you  like  about  what  you  tell  when 
you  get  there.  Dick !  Rachel !  I  guess  it  ain't 
worth  while  to  wait  till  your  Pa  comes  home 
before  the  whipping  begins.  You've  earned  one 
apiece,  that's  certain,  and  I'll  take  it  on  myself 
to  see  that  you  are  paid  here  and  now.  Why 
you  haven't  set  yourselves  and  the  barn  afire  I 
don't  know.  'Twould  have  been  a  pity  if  the 
lam  had  been  burnt  up." 

Sophy  Jane  and  Jimmy  started  on  the  home- 
ward trail,  slowly  and  sadly.  They  could  hear 
the  loud  wailing  of  Rachel's  voice  as  she  received 
the  swift  reward  for  her  evil  deeds.  Dick  bore 
his  punishment  without  a  word. 

"Goodness!  but  I'm  glad  that  Tutu  don't 
live  with  us/'  said  Sophy  Jane,  devoutly. 


182     THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

Peace  was  restored  long  before  the  next 
scheme  was  exploited. 
/  There  was  to  be  an  Election.  An  Election  is 
a  very  exciting  thing,  which  usually  occurs  in 
the  Fall.  Two  men,  or  maybe  more,  wish  to 
be  something,  and  everybody  else  goes  all  but 
crazy  in  trying  to  help  the  one  to  get  what  he 
wants,  and  to  hinder  the  other  from  doing  so. 
J  There  does  not  seem  to  be  much  sense  to  it,  and 
whichever  way  an  Election  goes,  the  sun  con- 
tinues to  rise  and  set,  and  the  seasons  to  come 
.  and  go  much  the  same  as  before.  It  is  always 
going  to  be  the  end  of  everything  if  the  wrong 
man  is  elected ;  but  somehow,  even  if  he  is,  the 
prophesied  catastrophe  never  comes  off.  It  is, 
however,  a  time  of  great  excitement  for  the 
boys. 

Prior  to  the  Election  there  were  to  be 
Parades,  two  Parades  —  one  for  each  of  the 
great  political  parties.  The  children  would,  it 
is  true,  look  at  that  of  the  party  opposed  to  that 
to  which  their  own  families  belonged;  but  it 
would  be  with  hostile  eyes,  and  comments  of 
an  uncomplimentary  nature  would  have  been 
passed  thereon  but  for  the  stern  restrictions  of 
the  Elders.     It  was  imperative  that  something 


"JOYS  THAT  WE'VE   TASTED"      183 

great  should  be  done  in  honor  of  their  own 
Parade;  but  to  do  things  requires  money. 

The  boys  looked  into  their  money  boxes. 
Each  had  an  allowance  of  spending  money 
which  was  paid  in  on  the  first  morning  of  every 
month.  By  twelve  o'clock  of  the  same  day 
each  boy  was  usually  a  bankrupt,  and  as  it  was 
not  allowed  that  one  either  tease  for  more,  or 
go  in  debt  for  anything,  twenty-nine  or  thirty 
days  of  abject  poverty  ensued.  These  were 
mitigated  by  their  system  of  swapping  things, 
but  still  it  was  not  pleasant,  and  lately  they 
had  begun  to  save  up.  Now,  all  told,  the  boys 
had  fourteen  cents.  It  was  a  bad  outlook.  Fifty 
cents  was  the  sum  required,  and  between  four- 
teen and  fifty  there  is  a  great  gulf  fixed. 

Dick  approached  the  little  girls  diplomati- 
cally. 

"  How  much  money  have  you  got  in  your  tin 
banks  ? " 

"  What  do  you  want  to  know  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,  just  because.  We've  got  a  splendid 
scheme,  and  we  thought  maybe  you'd  like  to  be 
let  in."     Dick  walked  away. 

They  longed  to  be  let  in. 

Rachel  rushed    to    her  tin  bank.     It  rattled 


184     THE  DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

feebly.    Only  two  cents  lay  between  her  and  the 
wolf. 

Sophy  Jane  went  home  to  examine  her  store. 
Rachel  went  with  her.  Sophy  had  had  extra 
expenses  that  month,  and  out  of  her  larger  al- 
lowance had  saved  one  five-cent  piece  and  three 
pennies.  It  was  not  at  all  likely  that  they 
would  be   let  in  for  ten  cents. 

They  went  up  to  Molly's. 

She  had  not  heard  of  the  new  scheme,  but 
she  became  wild  to  be  let  in,  and  began  to  cry 
when  it  was  discovered  that  she  had  not  a  cent 
to  bless  herself  with,  and  was,  therefore,  with-, 
out  hope  of  being  noticed  by  the  fortune-hunting 
gentlemen. 

The  Youngest  Aunt  came  by,  and  asked  what 
Molly  was  crying  about.  Learning  of  her  desti^ 
tute  condition,  she  contributed  two  silver  three^ 
cent  pieces  to  her  relief.  She  said  she  had  no 
more,  or  she  would  give  one  each  to  Rachel  and 
to  Sophy  Jane.  They  were  very  sorry  she  had 
no  more,  and  said  so  very  politely. 

Sophy  Jane  was  always  lucky.  On  the  way 
down  to  the  Doctor's  she  stubbed  her  toe  and  fell, 
and  as  she  fell  her  hand  touched  a  large  copper 
penny  that  lay  on  the  board  walk.     She  could 


"JOYS   THAT   WE'VE   TASTED"      185 

hardly  believe  her  eyes,  but  it  was  true.  She 
forgot  to  cry  over  the  fall  she  was  so  pleased 
with  the  money,  and  armed  with  seventeen 
cents  the  little  girls  hastened  to  the  woodshed, 
where  the  boys  were  in  consultation.  When 
the  boys  saw  all  that  money,  they  let  the  girls 
in. 

"  It  is  to  be  this,"  explained  Dick.  "  Our 
Parade  is  to  pass  here,  and  we  are  going  to 
build  an  observatory  under  the  linden  tree  on 
the  corner.  It  will  be  a  kind  of  table  thing,  and 
we  shall  crawl  up  to  it  by  Jimmy's  step-ladder. 
It's  broken,  and  his  mother  said  he  could  have 
it.  We  can  get  the  boards  and  nails  easy  enough, 
and  Chris  will  help  us  make  it ;  but  it's  got  to 
be  trimmed  off  with  red,  white,  and  blue  stuff, 
and  we've  all  got  to  have  flags  to  wave  when  we 
holler.  It  will  cost  at  least  fifty  cents  to  do  it 
up  in  good  style,  and  it's  got  to  be  all  right,  if 
I  have  anything  to  do  with  it.  I  won't  have 
those  Democrats  laughing  at  us." 

All  resolved  that  rather  than  give  occasion 
for  laughter  to  the  Democrats,  their  lives,  their 
fortunes,  and  their  sacred  honor  should  go. 
Paul  was  made  treasurer,  and  when  all  had  paid 
in,   thirty-one   cents  lay   in  his  pocket.     Sophy 


186  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

Jane  borrowed  a  threaded  needle  of  Tutu  and 
sewed  the  pocket  fast  shut. 

"  The  next  thing  will  be  to  earn  money,"  said 
Dick.     "  Let  everybody  think." 

"  I  could  shovel  snow,"  said  Paul,  resolutely. 
But  there  was  no  snow. 

"Last  Summer  I  sold  a  basketful  of  peas 
and  two  squashes  to  Mrs.  Baker,"  said  Rachel. 
"  Mother  said  I  could  have  them  out  of  the  gar- 
den, and  Mrs.  Baker  said  she'd  buy  them  if 
I  would  shell  the  peas,  she  had  no  time  to 
bother ;  so  I  did,  and  she  gave  me  fifteen  cents." 
Pea  season  was  long  past,  however,  and  there 
were  no  more  squashes,  so  Mrs.  Baker  could  not 
be  considered  as  a  source  of  revenue. 

Sophy  Jane  felt  that  she  would  shine  as  a 
nurse-maid,  but  the  Village  mothers  either  took 
care  of  their  own  babies,  or  trusted  them  to 
older  hands  than  hers,  so  there  was  no  use  think- 
ing of  that.     Couldn't  they  have  a  Show  ? 

All  looked  approvingly  at  Sophy  Jane. 

The  Show  came  off  on  the  Saturday  next 
ensuing,  in  the  large,  pleasant,  chip-smelling 
woodshed,  in  which,  luckily,  the  Winter's  wood 
was  not  yet  stored.  There  were  plenty  of  nice, 
thick  sticks  left  over,  to  be  used  for  seating  the 


"JOYS   THAT   WE'VE   TASTED"      187 

audience,  and  in  front  of  the  double  row  of  seats 
thus  provided  two  old  quilts  were  hung  on  a 
piece  of  clothes-line.  Two  members  of  the 
troupe,  who  might,  at  the  moment,  be  at  leisure 
from  performing,  were  to  hold  these  curtains 
back  and  display  the  various  scenes  of  the  tab- 
leaux vivants,  which  was  the  form  of  Show  Sophy 
Jane  had  decided  upon  as  best  adapted  to  the 
resources  in  hand. 

Paul  as  treasurer  stood  at  the  shed  door  and 
took  in  the  gate  money.  Admission  was  one 
cent,  and  a  goodly  number  of  boys  and  girls 
came  to  the  Show.  In  all  sixteen,  and  really 
more  would  have  been  an  inconvenience. 

By  half-past  one  Paul  saw  that  every  log  was 
filled,  and  he  left  the  door  to  take  his  place  in 
the  opening  tableau.  Sophy  Jane  had  persuaded 
them  that  a  series  of  Biblical  scenes  would  take 
well,  and  would  be  easy  to  do.  She  wished  to 
begin  with  the  Garden  of  Eden,  and  have  an 
aesthetic  display  of  dahlias,  marigolds,  and  other 
Autumn  flowers ;  but  this  the  boys  voted  down 
as  being  too  tame.  So  the  first  scene  was  to 
be  the  Killing  of  Abel.  Jimmy  as  Cain  was 
wonderful.  The  Doctor's  brother,  who  was  a 
Captain  loaned  a  pair  of  pistols,  and  with  one 


188  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

of  these  in  each  of  Jimmy's  hands,  with  epau- 
lets on  Jimmy's  shoulders,  and  a  soldier's  cap 
cocked  fiercely  above  Jimmy's  frowning  brows, 
there  was  nothing  left  for  poor  little  Paul,  as 
Abel,  to  do  but  to  fall  over  with  a  loud  whoop 
of  anguish.  Sophy  Jane,  as  Eve,  pinned  up 
in  a  sheet,  and  with  a  splendid  wig  of  yellow 
shavings,  shrieked  in  the  background ;  while 
Dick,  as  Father  Adam,  with  stern  counte- 
nance and  uplifted  horsewhip,  was  about  to 
chastise  his  erring  first-born,  when  the  curtain 
dropped,  and  the  beholders  applauded  this 
spirited  scene  to  the  echo. 

The  Sacrifice  of  Isaac  was  next  presented, 
Rachel  and  Molly  pulling  at  the  quilts.  Dick, 
as  Abraham,  with  a  beard  of  the  yellow 
shavings,  an  old  hat  of  Grandfather's,  and  the 
Doctor's  flowered  dressing-gown,  held  a  hatchet 
threateningly  over  the  head  of  the  prostrate  and 
screaming  Jimmy ;  while  Paul,  in  the  sheet  that 
had  just  enwrapped  Mother  Eve,  stayed  the 
murderous  hand.  There  had  been  some  trouble 
about  the  ram  for  the  sacrifice,  but  this  had 
been  done  away  by  tying  the  family  cat  to  a  pot 
of  rose  geranium.  A  cat  is  not  a  ram  exactly, 
but  both  are  domestic  animals,   and   the  scene 


"JOYS   THAT   WE'VE   TASTED"      189 

was  considered  very  realistic.  One  little  girl  said 
that  when  old  Puss  meawedy  it  sounded  almost 
exactly  like  a  sheep. 

Concession  was  made  by  the  actors  to  the 
actresses  in  the  next  scene,  which  was  Jacob's 
Dream.  One  of  the  boys  took  a  very  unrestful 
position  with  his  head  on  an  empty  pickle  jar, 
and  snored  lustily ;  while  up  and  down  Jimmy's 
recently  acquired  step-ladder  the  three  girls  clam- 
bered, one  at  a  time.  They  had  on  their  night- 
gowns over  their  dresses,  and,  except  that  their 
manners  lacked  repose,  and  angels'  knees  are  not 
unusually  depicted  as  their  most  prominent  fea- 
ture, they  did  very  well. 

To  represent  Joseph  and  His  Brethren  required 
the  assistance  of  the  entire  troupe,  and  even  then 
several  Tribes  were  lost  before  their  time.  Two 
of  the  spectators  were  asked  to  officiate  as  quilt- 
raisers  while  Joseph  was  on  view,  and  also  while 
the  Children  of  Israel  crossed  the  Red  Sea.  The 
Doctor's  old  army  blanket  was  the  sea,  and  a 
very  excellent  sea  it  made.  No  one  could  have 
taken  it  for  any  other  sea  than  the  Red  Sea,  so 
red  was  it.  Big  chips  were  laid  in  a  track 
across  it,  and  over  these  Moses  and  Aaron  led 
the  hosts  in  safety.    Each  member  of  the  party 


190     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

blew  blasts  on  his  tin  horn,  so  the  effect  was 
brilliant. 

They  had  David  and  Goliath,  and  Daniel  in 
the  Lion's  Den.  Jimmy  stuffed  out  with  pillows 
made  an  excellent  Goliath,  and  as  there  were  not 
cats  enough  to  make  a  proper  den  of  lions,  every- 
body but  Paul,  who  was  Daniel,  put  something 
over  his  head,  and  crawled  about  on  all  fours, 
growling  so  viciously  and  roaring  so  terribly  that 
Daniel  looked  more  than  pleased  when  relief 
came  in  the  unexpected  appearance  of  the  Doc- 
tor's Wife  with  her  best  silver  basket  filled  with 
seed-cakes,  followed  by  Tutu  with  a  jug  of 
lemonade. 

It  seemed  almost  a  pity  that  with  forty-seven 
cents  ready  in  hand  to  be  spent  in  decking  off  a 
grand  stand  for  Parade  day,  and  for  the  discom- 
fiture of  the  Democrats,  that  a  few  days  before 
the  Parade,  men  who  were  on  the  Committee  called 
at  the  houses  of  all  the  children  and  requested 
their  active  participation  in  a  larger  way.  A 
float  was  to  be  adorned  by  a  Goddess  of  Liberty 
enthroned,  around  whom  white-robed  States 
were  to  cluster,  typifying  the  Union.  There 
were  to  be  white  frocks,  red  caps,  blue  sashes 
bearing   the   names   of    States   to   be   honored, 


"JOYS   THAT   WE'VE   TASTED"      191 

waving  flags,  —  oh,  who  would  not  be  a  State  ? 
Rachel  wept  for  joy  when  she  found  that  she 
was  to  be  Nevada,  and  ran  to  look  for  the  word 
in  her  little  geography.  Sophy  Jane,  out  of 
compliment  to  her  parents,  was  to  be  Massachu- 
setts, and  for  like  reason  Molly  was  to  be  Ohio. 
To  have  been  Indiana,  was  an  honor  to  which 
one  dared  not  aspire. 

The  boys  were  honored  also.  In  sailor  suits, 
with  shiny  caps  and  belts,  they  were  to  man  a 
boat  which  was  to  represent  Our  Navy.  Our 
Army — a  fort-looking  thing  —  was  to  be  de- 
fended by  larger  and  fiercer-looking  boys.  It  was 
to  be  simply  splendid  to  drive  slowly  past  admir- 
ing throngs  of  enthusiastic  townsmen  and  country 
folk,  hurrahing  and  hurrahed  at,  and  even  per- 
mitted by  the  etiquette  of  the  occasion  to  yell 
derisively  at  children  who  were  Democrats  ;  "  Hi, 
there  !     Don't  you  wish  you  was  me  ?  " 

But  the  money !  It  had  been  consecrated  to  a 
great  cause ;  it  must  not  be  diverted  to  lower 
uses.     It  should  not  be. 

The  men  who  were  on  the  Parade  Committee 
were  having  a  meeting.  Almost  all  of  them  had 
been  away  fighting  in  the  great  war,  not  so  far 
in  the  past,  then,  by  many  a  long  year,  as  it  is 


192     THE  DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

now,  and  on  that  account  they  wore  a  halo  in 
the  eyes  of  the  children.  They  looked  up  when 
the  Committee-room  door  opened,  and  the  boys, 
followed  at  a  distance  by  three  scared  little  girls, 
came  in. 

Dick  was  a  bashful  boy,  but  he  was  no 
coward.  He  walked  up  to  the  table  and  laid 
the  money  down  in  orderly  rows,  —  half-dimes, 
three-cent  pieces,  pennies  —  mostly  pennies. 

"  Part  we  saved,"  he  explained,  "  and  part  we 
earned.  Please  spend  it  on  the  Parade.  We 
want  to  do  our  share." 

The  tall  General  put  his  hand  on  the  lad's 
shoulder,  and  his  voice  broke. 

« It  was  good  work  fighting  for  the  old  flag. 
Comrades,"  he  said,  "  since  we  can  hand  it  on  to 
such  as  these." 


CHAPTER   XI 
tCtie  County  iFair 

Sad  days  had  come  to  Sophy  Jane  and  to 
Rachel.  It  was  decreed  by  their  elders  and 
betters  that  they  must  learn  to  sew. 

There  was  a  tradition  in  the  Village  of  those 
days,  that  the  highest  type  of  womanhood  was 
that  set  forth  in  that  particular  chapter  of  the 
Book  of  Proverbs  in  which  all  the  home-making, 
housewifely  virtues  are  praised  with  the  com- 
fortable appreciation  of  a  man  who  has  had  a 
good  mother  and  a  good  wife.  Of  this  com- 
mentary the  verses  referring  to  the  needle  were 
considered  to  be  peculiarly  applicable  to  little 
girls,  and  it  was  considered  by  grandmothers 
and  grand-aunts  to  be  little  less  than  a  scandal 
that  Sophy  Jane  at  twelve  and  Rachel  at  ten 
barely  knew  which  end  of  the  needle  carried  the 
thread.  The  dark  hour  of  their  initiation  into  the 
mysteries  of  running,  hemming,  felling,  and  so 
on,  could  now  no  longer  be  averted,  and  thimbles 

o  193 


194     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

and  other  implements  were  provided,  with  a  hope 
of  making  less  dreary  the  dreaded  pathway. 

Sophy  Jane  shadowed  forth  the  New  Woman. 

"  I  don't  see  why  we  should  learn,"  she  argued. 
"  Boys  don't,  and  they  get  on  very  well  indeed. 
When  a  girl  knows  how  to  sew,  she  always  has 
to  make  trimmed-up  things  for  herself,  which 
are  no  good,  and  which  it  always  makes  her  un- 
happy to  wear.  I  know  when  I  have  on  my  best 
petticoat,  —  the  one  with  lace  and  inserging  that 
Mother  made  with  her  own  hands,  —  I  have  to 
be  so  prim  I  wish  I  was  dead.  You  needn't  say, 
'  that's  wicked,'  for  I  do.  When  Sister  was  going 
to  be  married,  she  had  a  horrible  time.  She  made 
tucks  all  the  morning  and  tatting  all  the  after- 
noon —  miles  and  miles  of  tatting  to  sew  on  the 
tucks.  I  s'pose  she's  had  to  be  careful  of  her 
things  ever  since,  and  I  know  that's  made  her 
miserable,  for  she  likes  fun  as  well  as  anybody ; 
but  you  really  have  to  have  pufFs  and  lace  if 
you're  married.  If  you  aren't,  plain  hems  will 
do  very  well,  and  Miss  Banks  will  make  things 
if  they  only  have  plain  hems.  If  it's  learn  to 
sew  or  not  be  married,  I've  decided  not  to 
marry." 

Rachel  was  secretly  sorry  to  hear  this.     All  of 


THE   COUNTY  FAIR  195 

the  lovely  princesses  and  charming  ladies  of  the 
fairy  tales  she  loved  were  married,  in  the  grand 
Jmale,  and  she  longed  to  follow  them  in  all 
things.  She  longed  still  more  to  be  like  Sophy 
Jane,  so  she  renounced  the  holy  state  of  matri- 
mony without  a  word. 

"  Yes,"  she  responded,  "  I'd  rather  have  plain 
hems  and  fun  than  no  end  of  inserging,  and  be 
married  and  miserable.  I  hope  Miss  Banks  will 
live  forever  and  forever;  then  we  need  not 
bother." 

"  I  wish  we  were  boys,  anyhow,"  went  on 
Sophy  Jane.  "  Nearly  all  the  good  times  go 
their  way  ;  but  we  can't  do  this  and  can't  do  that 
because  we're  girls.     I  hate  girls." 

"  Mother  is  a  girl,"  reproved  Daffy. 

There  was  no  escape  from  this  burden  of  their 
sex.  Sophy  Jane  was  given  the  breadths  of  a 
skirt  to  stitch,  and  Rachel  was  set  to  over-and- 
over  a  pillow-case  for  her  little  bed. 

Hers  was  indeed  a  weary  seam.  Large  black 
knots  marked  the  beginning  of  each  day's  task, 
followed  by  a  row  of  stitches  in  many  varying 
shades  of  gray,  which  straggled  along  like  very 
raw  recruits  at  drill,  while  round  dots  of  blood 
spoke  of  many  a  wounded  jBnger.     It  was  lucky 


196     THE  DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

that  so  wide  an  expanse  of  muslin  was  ready  at 
hand  to  wipe  away  the  tears  of  the  doleful  little 
maid,  who  stitched  away  so  unwillingly  through 
many  a  warm  Summer  afternoon. 

Aunt  Mary  came  to  the  rescue.  The  very 
nicest  aunts  seem,  somehow,  always  to  be  named 
Mary.  Perhaps  some  special  grace  of  sympathy 
and  helpfulness  clings  to  those  who  bear  the 
name  made  beautiful  forever  by  a  young  Jewish 
girl,  ages  and  ages  ago. 

"The  pillow-case  is  so  uninteresting.  Sister 
Kitty,"  she  said.  "  I  do  not  wonder  that  the 
poor  little  thing  cries  over  it.  Send  her  up  to 
the  Old  House,  and  I  will  give  her  lessons.  We 
will  keep  what  we  are  doing  a  great  secret,  dear, 
and  we  must  try  to  work  faithfully  at  it,  so 
that  dear  Mother  will  not  be  sorry  she  trusted 
us." 

It  was  the  most  beautiful  secret  imaginable. 
A  large  boxful  of  little  six-sided  scraps  of  paper 
covered  over  with  every  pretty  sort  of  ribbon 
and  satin  and  silk,  and  these  were  to  be  over- 
stitched  together,  so  many  every  day,  until 
there  should  be  a  sofa  pillow  ready  for  dear 
Mother's  Christmas  present.  Certainly  this  was 
the  royal   road   to   the  estate   of  the  Complete 


THE   COUNTY   FAIR  197 

Needlewoman.  The  secrecy  was  also  delightful, 
and  was  speedily  shared  with  everybody  whom 
Rachel  knew,  excepting  only  the  Doctor's  Wife, 
who  looked  as  if  she  did  not  know  it  at  all. 

There  were  no  more  tears.  Rachel  sat  by 
Aunt  Mary's  side,  while  Grandmother,  with  her 
knitting  in  her  hands,  told  endless  stories  of  her 
childhood  in  the  Old  Dominion,  which  would 
always  be  "home"  to  her  longing  heart.  The 
waters  of  the  Potomac  rippled  softly  through 
those  quiet  tales ;  the  shadows  drifted  over  the 
noble  curves  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  which  faded, 
faded,  as  they  melted  into  the  Valley  which  is 
the  pride  and  glory  of  the  Commonwealth. 
Rachel  tried  to  picture  to  herself  the  rocky 
hillsides,  where  the  laurel  thickets  flushed  into 
white  and  pink  blossomings ;  and  she  tried  to 
see  the  tender  haze  that  hovered  over  the  scenes 
once  so  familiar,  always  so  dear,  to  the  gentle 
old  eyes,  which  grew  gentler  still  as  Grandmother 
thought  of  the  long,  long  past.  We  speak  of 
looking  backward  ;  is  it  not  looking  forward 
that  we  mean? 

Suddenly  it  was  October,  and  time  for  the 
County  Fair.  Suddenly,  also,  all  the  over-and- 
overing  was  done.     A  gay  pillow,  finished  to  the 


198     THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

last  stitch,  lay  on  the  shelf  in  Aunt  Mary's 
closet,  and  Rachel  was  running  about  with  an- 
other secret  to  tell.  It  was  to  be  entered  to 
compete  for  a  premium  at  the  Fair. 

The  boys  had  caught  the  Fair  fever  also,  and 
had  procured  a  yellow  pamphlet  in  which  the  pre- 
miums were  listed.     They  looked  it  over  eagerly. 

Horses,  cattle,  sheep,  swine,  grains,  fruits, 
vegetables  —  they  had  none  to  offer.  Fowls? 
Yes,  they  had  fowls. 

Paul  had  a  duck,  a  very  admirable  duck,  al- 
though it  was  a  little  lame.  A  man  once  gave 
it  to  him  out  of  a  farm-wagon  in  which  he  was 
carrying  a  brood  of  ducklings  to  his  married 
daughter.  One  of  the  little  ones  got  hurt,  and 
the  man  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  it.  No 
one  would  want  a  lame  duck,  he  said,  yet  he 
hated  to  kill  the  poor  little  thing.  So  he  was 
very  glad  to  give  it  to  Paul,  who  asked  him  for  it 
rather  timidly.  The  duck  had  grown  to  be  large 
and  fat,  and  had  been  provided  with  a  mate 
through  the  united  purses  of  the  three  boys. 
The  drake  had  a  curled-up  tail,  and  the  most 
splendid  neck  feathers  imaginable. 

The  boys  were  much  attached  to  the  ducks. 
They  sat  for  hours  on  the  bank  of  a  weedy  little 


THE  COUNTY  FAIR  199 

pond  to  which  the  pair  had  waddled  and  wherein 
they  disported  themselves,  and  they  were  agreed 
in  believing  that  such  evolutions  were  never  before 
seen.  It  seemed  to  them  hardly  possible  that 
another  pair  so  interesting  could  anywhere  be 
found,  and  to  enter  them  for  a  premium  seemed 
but  a  simple  act  of  justice.  So  not  only  the 
sofa  pillow,  but  the  ducks  also  went  to  the  County 
Fair. 

In  semi-rural  communities,  in  the  years  before 
people  had  forgotten  to  remember  that  to-morrow 
is  also  a  day,  there  was  no  School  during  Fair 
week.  It  would  have  been  futile  to  attempt  to  hold 
the  usual  sessions,  since  none  but  "  sissy  "  boys 
would  have  dreamed  of  attending,  and  the  few 
girls  who  could  have  been  coerced  into  going 
would  have  been  so  idle  and  so  cross  that  the 
Teachers  would  have  been  very  unhappy.  They 
wisely  ordered  holiday  for  the  whole  week,  and 
took  their  own  pleasure  in  the  great  half-open, 
half-wooded  enclosure  wherein  the  whole  coun- 
tryside assembled  to  celebrate  a  sort  of  Feast  of 
Tabernacles  before  the  settling  down  of  the  early 
cold  of  the  Northern  winter  should  shut  them  in 
to  their  own  firesides.  It  was  a  highly  prized 
opportunity  for  the  exchange  of  friendly  greet- 


200  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

ings  and  experiences,  as  well  as  for  the  rivalry 
that  stimulates  to  larger  effort  in  the  way  of 
improved  agriculture  and  housewifery.  Nothing 
but  good  could  come  of  seeing  the  best  pos- 
sible development  of  the  resources  of  the  bounti- 
ful old  Mother  Nature,  so  ready  with  her  aid, 
and  surely  in  this  world  wherein  one  must  per- 
force strive  for  something,  to  have  the  name  of 
being  the  best  butter  maker,  or  the  grower  of 
the  finest  pears,  or  corn,  or  roses,  or  cows,  is  as 
well  worth  striving  for  as  is  any  other  goal.  So 
the  various  departments  were  so  full  of  inter- 
esting things  that  the  various  Committees  had 
a  hard  time  in  selecting  those  worthiest  of  the 
premiums.  ^ 

Sophy  Jane  stood  entranced  before  a  work  of 
art  called  an  Agricultural  Wreath.  It,  or  its 
duplicate,  came  every  year  to  the  Fair,  and 
she  knew  exactly  where  to  go  to  see  this  wonder. 
It  was  framed  in  a  deep  oval  frame  under  glass, 
and  it  was  so  splendid  that  it  would  have  orna- 
mented a  King's  palace.  It  is  doubtful  if  any 
King  on  any  throne  had  ever  such  a  thing  as 
this ;  —  perhaps  nobody  at  all  has  one  to-day. 
Large  rosette-like  flowers  made  of  red  or 
yellow  corn,  with  tufted  centres  of  crimson  or 


THE   COUNTY   FAIR  201 

yellow  wool,  and  varnished  with  a  thick  shiny 
varnish,  were  called  dahlias,  and  contended  for 
the  places  of  honor  with  roses  made  out  of  whitey 
or  pinky  squash  or  melon  seeds  and  clusters  of 
rice-grain  lilacs.  Trefoils  of  Lima  beans,  ferns 
of  unripe  oats,  pinnated  foliage  of  peas  —  there 
was  really  no  end  to  the  ingenuity  displayed  by 
the  artificer  with  the  rather  vegetable-like  name 
of  Kale  who  had  constructed  these  marvels  which 
Sophy  thought  so  beautiful.  Who  could  have 
guessed  that  in  the  years  to  come  men  and 
women  of  the  highest  culture  would  stand  rever- 
ently before  the  work  of  the  little  girl  herself? 

"If  I  didn't  have  to  learn  to  sew,  I  could 
make  a  better  wreath  than  that  myself,"  said 
Sophy  Jane,  with  conviction. 

This  seemed  so  presumptuous  to  Rachel's  scan- 
dalized ears  that  she  walked  hastily  away  in  the 
direction  of  the  sofa  pillow,  now  hanging  by  one 
corner  in  the  department  devoted  to  patchery. 
Pride  was  very  well.  She  was  proud  of  the 
pillow  herself ;  but  to  speak  as  Sophy  Jane  had 
spoken  of  the  Agricultural  Wreath,  was  little 
better  than  sacrilege. 

A  lady  was  standing  near  the  needle-worked 
things,  and  was  examining  the  work  critically. 


202     THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

She  did  not  belong  to  the  Village,  or  Rachel, 
who  knew  everybody,  would  have  known  her. 
Probably  she  was  the  w^ife  of  one  of  the  well- 
to-do  farmers  whose  homes  lay  under  the  shelter 
of  the  woods  that  dotted  and  bordered  the 
rolling  prairies.  She  had  a  kindly  face,  and 
seemed  greatly  interested  in  the  display  before 
her. 

Rachel  approached  her  cautiously. 
"Are  you  on  the  Committee?"  she  asked. 
"Yes,  little  girl." 

"I  am  sorry  for  that,"  said  Rachel,  politely. 
"I  was  just  going  to  ask  you  if  you  did  not 
think  that  sofa  pillow  was  very  well  done  for 
a  little  girl  just  learning  to  sew.  Somebody 
I  know  made  it.  She's  ten,  going  on  'leven, 
but  she's  nearer  'leven  than  ten,  and  she  sewed 
as  hard  as  ever  she  could  to  get  it  done  in 
time  for  the  Fair.  Aunt  Mary  hardly  helped 
her  at  all,  only  she  did  the  basting.  If  she 
gets  the  premium,  I'm  going  to  —  but  if  you're 
the  Committee,  the  little  girl  must  not  try  to 
influence  you.  Dick  says  if  anybody  influences 
the  Committee,  she's  got  to  go  to  jail.  I  should 
hate  being  shut  up  in  a  dark  cell  full  of  robbers 
and  murderers,  shouldn't  you  ?  " 


THE   COUNTY   FAIR  203 

Yes;  the  lady  thought  that  might  be  very 
disagreeable. 

"  Our  boys  have  entered  the  ducks,"  she  went 
on  confidentially.  "  They're  splendid  ducks,  only 
Martha  Washington  is  lame.  General  Washing- 
ton has  the  sjplendidest  feathers,  and  they  can 
both  quack  like  anything.  I  am  almost  sure 
they'll  get  the  premium,  and  then  if  I  get  — 
oh !  I  forgot  you  were  on  the  Committee. 
You  wouldn't  call  what  I've  said  influencing? 
You  wouldn't  want  to  send  me  to  jail  for 
it,  would  you?" 

No,  indeed.  Nothing  was  farther  from  the 
lady's  thoughts.  She  patted  the  thin  little 
cheek  kindly,  and  walked  away.  Rachel  felt 
sure  that  any  one  so  nice  would  never  be  instru- 
mental in  sending  her  to  jail,  so  she  too  moved 
off  toward  the  other  end  of  the  Pavilion. 

The  Pavilion  was  a  large  shed,  unpainted 
and  rough.  Crayon  portraits,  and  landscapes, 
and  flower  pieces  in  oil  and  water  colors,  were 
hanging  against  the  walls ;  while  on  tables  and 
on  ropes  stretched  for  the  purpose  hung  all  of 
the  knitted  and  patched  quilts  and  things,  and 
beyond  these  were  displays  of  every  sort  of  good- 
tasting   stuff   that    ever  was  heard    of,  —  jelly, 


204  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

pickles,  preserves,  bread  and  cake,  butter  like 
ingots  of  gold,  rounds  of  delicious-looking 
cheeses,  jugs  of  home-made  cider,  bottles  of 
home-made  wines,  festoons  of  home-cured  hams, 
boxes  of  home-grown  honey.  It  made  one's 
mouth  water  merely  to  look  at  them,  and  it 
really  was  no  proper  place  for  a  hungry  child. 
When  one  grew  up,  one  would  be  placed  on  a 
Committee,  and  have  the  right  to  taste  any- 
thing and  everything;  but  it  seemed  a  long 
time  to  wait,  and  it  seemed  surprising  that 
when  Committees  could  eat  a  whole  plateful, 
they  should  take  only  such  tiny  bites.  On  the 
previous  day  one  of  the  tasting  ladies  had  given 
Sophy  Jane  a  large  slice  of  pound  cake,  and 
after  she  had  taken  the  precaution  of  eating  it 
to  the  last  crumb,  she  went  forth  and  boasted 
of  her  good  fortune ;  but  although  her  comrades 
made  all  due  haste  to  place  themselves  as  near 
to  the  tasters  as  they  could  get,  no  more  gifts 
were  forthcoming.  To-day,  as  all  the  awards 
had  been  announced,  there  was  nothing  to  be 
expected  in  the  Pavilion ;  however,  as  luncheon 
was  to  be  served  at  noon  in  the  Linwood  rocka- 
way,  it  was  not  so  trying  to  look  at  the  good 
things  beyond  one's  reach. 


THE   COUNTY   FAIR  205 

All  of  the  carriages  were  grouped  about  under 
the  trees  of  the  oak  grove  which  lay  along  the 
race  track.  The  horses  had  been  led  away  to 
the  feeding-sheds,  and  in  the  vehicles  the 
hostesses  were  uncovering  their  baskets.  The 
children  were  wedged  in  between  their  elders 
and  gorged  themselves,  the  early  start,  the 
excitement,  and  the  crisp  air  of  the  royal 
October  weather  having  given  their  appetites 
an  extra  edge.  Never  were  pleasanter  feasts 
than  were  the  basket  feasts  of  the  County  Fair 
times.  One  had  not  only  one's  own  supply 
of  fried  chicken,  sandwiches,  fruit,  hard-boiled 
eggs,  and  every  sort  of  cake  ever  thought  of ; 
but  people  from  adjoining  carriages  were  con- 
stantly handing  pots  of  damson  preserve  or 
baskets  of  luscious  grapes,  over  the  carriage 
wheels,  and  one  handed  back  plates  of  deli- 
cately sliced  ham,  or  jars  of  spiced  gooseberries. 
Recipes  for  this  or  that  were  exchanged  with 
the  return  of  empty  dishes,  and  compliments 
were  both  generous  and  sincere.  No  one  in  or 
about  the  Village  saw  cause  for  shame  in 
honest  appetite,  or  was  chary  of  honest  praise. 
It  was  a  sign  of  good  breeding  to  praise  a 
hostess,  delicately,  on  the  success  of  her  dishes ; 


206     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

and  it  was  a  sign  of  breeding  even  better  than 
good,  for  ladies  to  make  an  opportunity  to  tell 
the  cook  how  much  they  appreciated  her 
efforts  to  give  pleasure.  No  one  ever  discussed 
the  servant  problem  in  the  Village,  since  there 
was  none  to  discuss,  only  a  kind  and  helpful 
relationship  between  mistress  and  maid  at  once 
beautiful  and  wise. 

After  the  baskets  were  repacked,  the  older 
ladies  and  the  smaller  children  settled  them- 
selves comfortably  to  look  at  the  races,  —  the 
men,  the  larger  children,  and  the  young  girls 
old  enough  to  have  sweethearts  to  take  care  of 
them,  choosing  to  move  about,  and  get  better 
views. 

It  was  all  very  interesting.  Jockeys  who 
wore  gay  caps  sat  lightly  on  horses  which 
pranced  and  curveted  proudly  before  the  admir- 
ing crowds,  or  strained  every  muscle  in  the  wild 
dash  they  made  as  they  flashed  around  the  track 
to  the  goal.  Other  men,  crouched  in  spidery 
little  sulkies,  drove  their  horses  around  the  well- 
watered  oval,  urging  them  on  to  their  best  efforts 
with  low  cries,  or  a  touch  of  the  long,  thin  lashes 
they  carried.  The  winning  horses  were  quickly 
blanketed,  and  led  away  to  be  rubbed  down,  fol- 


THE  COUNTY  FAIR  207 

lowed  by  as  many  boys  as  could  tear  themselves 
away  from  the  palings  before  the  Grand  Stand  — 
palings  erected,  it  would  seem,  expressly  to  be  a 
boy.perch.  Then  with  much  ding-donging  of  the 
starter's  bell,  with  many  false  starts  and  swift 
recalls,  new  horses  would  trot  off  to  make  their 
records.  Perhaps  there  was  a  little  betting 
among  some  of  the  younger  men;  but  openly 
there  was  nothing  to  offend,  nothing  but  a  fair 
testing  of  wind  and  limb  and  of  skilful  training. 

While  the  races  were  at  their  height,  the  boys 
bethought  themselves  of  their  ducks.  What  if 
the  premiums  had  been  awarded  since  they  took 
a  last  look  at  noon?  It  would  be  well  to  see 
at  once,  so  they  darted  off  in  the  direction 
of  the  shed  in  which  the  coops  were  arranged, 
and  whence  a  clamor  of  quacking,  gobbling, 
crowing,  clucking,  squawking,  and  cooing  could 
be  heard  far  and  wide. 

There  was  only  disappointment  in  store  for 
the  boys.  The  ducks  had  been  judged,  and 
neither  the  blue  ribbon  for  best,  the  red  ribbon 
for  the  next  best,  nor  even  the  yellow  tag  for 
honorable  mention  were  for  them.  All  had  been 
awarded  to  dwellers  in  the  next  tier.  Neither 
General  Washington  nor  his  wife  minded  it  in. 


208     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

the  least,  however.  They  quacked  joyfully  when 
they  saw  their  little  masters,  and  ruffled  out 
their  resplendent  plumage  as  proudly  as  possible. 

It  would  not  be  speaking  truthfully  to  say 
that  the  boys  did  not  resent  this  slight,  and  they 
would  probably  have  grown  very  much  excited 
but  for  something  which  happened  just  at  that 
moment. 

Next  to  the  duck  pens  were  stages  on  which 
coopsful  of  chickens  stood,  and  among  these 
some  very  fine  fowls  were  to  be  seen.  The  boys 
had  especially  admired  the  Plymouth  Rocks. 
The  best  display  of  these  belonged  to  a  farmer 
living  out  beyond  Linwood,  a  very  honest  farmer, 
who  had  well  earned  the  title  he  bore  through- 
out the  whole  prairie  of  being  a  "  clever  neigh- 
bor "  —  clever  in  the  good  old  sense  of  being 
helpful  and  kindly.  He  had  shown  this  quality 
in  the  readiness  with  which  he  promised  every 
one  who  asked  for  them  a  sitting  of  Plymouth 
Rock  eggs,  and  one  of  his  first  promises  had 
been  to  the  boys  who  now  intended  to  become 
poultry  fanciers  on  as  large  a  scale  as  possible. 
He  said  he  did  not  wish  to  make  money  off  his 
friends,  and  that  he  should  only  charge  regular 
table-egg  prices  for  his  fine  Plymouth  Rock  eggs. 


THE   COUNTY   FAIR  209 

The  boys  thought  they  could  safely  engage  four 
sittings  of  eggs,  and  the  farmer  said  if  they 
meant  four,  he  meant  five,  so  everybody  was 
pleased. 

Another  man  had  Plymouth  Rocks  also.  He 
did  not  belong  to  the  Village  or  to  its  neighbor- 
hood, but  the  boys  knew  his  face.  It  was  not 
a  nice  face,  for  his  eyes  were  of  a  pale  watery 
blue,  and  were  constantly  shifting.  One  cannot 
help  the  color  of  one's  eyes ;  but  if  one  has  an 
honest  heart,  one  is  apt  to  have  steady  eyes. 
This  man's  eyes  were  not  honest,  and  it  had  not 
been  becoming  in  him  to  stand  about  and  dis- 
parage other  people's  chickens  in  the  way  he 
had  done. 

When  the  boys  came  suddenly  around  the 
comer,  they  were  surprised  to  find  the  man 
busily  engaged  in  trying  to  force  the  lock  of 
Mr.  Fieldwood's  coop,  which  now  bore  the  blue 
ribbon.  The  fowls  themselves  seemed  to  know 
that  danger  was  near,  for  they  were  huddled 
together  in  a  frightened  way  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  coop.  Chickens  may  be  stupid,  but  even 
they  know  when  a  bad  man  is  about. 

"  That's  not  your  coop,  Mister,"  called  Dick. 
.  The  man  faced  about.     He  looked  angrily  at 


210     THE  DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

the  boys,  and  then  he  began  to  smile  in  a  coax- 
ing way. 

"  Oh,  yes  it  is,  my  little  man." 

"It's  Mr.  Fieldwood's,  you  mean,"  retorted 
Jim.  "  We  know  him  very  well.  He's  going  to 
give  us  a  whole  sitting  of  eggs  next  Spring." 

"  He'll  bile  'em  first,  so's  they  won't  hatch," 
sneered  the  man.  "If  I  was  you,  I'd  ruther 
have  ten  cents  to  spend  to-day  'n  a  promise  of 
suthin'  half  a  year  off.  Wouldn't  you  like  to 
have  ten  cents  ?  " 

He  held  up  a  slip  of  green  paper,  which  meant 
ten  cents  in  those  days. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  the  boys. 

"Come,  now.  An'  you  mustn't  say  these 
chickens  is  his'n.  We  traded  places  for  our 
coops  this  mornin',  an'  these  here  prize-winners 
is  mine,  every  feather  of  'em." 

"  Dick,"  said  Paul,  suddenly,  "  I  know  better. 
I  remember  that  nice  little  hanging-up  waterpan, 
don't  you  ?  Mr.  Fieldwood  said  he  fixed  it  him- 
self. I  asked  him  where  he  got  it,  'cause  it's 
the  only  one  I  ever  saw." 

The  man  began  to  look  angry. 

"You  clear  out  o'  here,"  he  said,  roughly. 
"Like's  not   you've  come   sneakin'  in   here    to 


THE   COUNTY   FAIR  211 

steal  suthin',  'n'  if  you  don't  show  a  clean  pair  o' 
heels  this  minute,  I'll  call  the  constable.  Look 
sharp,  now." 

"Run  and  fetch  Mr.  Fieldwood,  Paul,"  said 
Dick.  "  Jim  and  I'll  stay  here.  Let  that  lock 
alone ! " 

"  I've  a  right  to  lock  up  my  own  coop,  you  lit- 
tle wretch ! " 

"  But  you've  no  right  to  touch  other  people's. 
If  what  you  say  is  true,  you'd  only  be  too  glad 
to  wait  till  Mr.  Fieldwood  comes.  He's  only 
over  by  the  sheep." 

When  the  man  heard  this,  he  said  some  very 
ugly  words,  and  he  gave  the  lock  a  vicious 
wrench.  It  was  only  an  old  lock,  and  now  it 
broke.  As  it  broke,  Paul  returned,  panting,  fol- 
lowed by  the  farmer. 

"These  here  lyin'  little  thieves,"  began  the 
man. 

"  Not  one  word,"  said  Mr.  Fieldwood,  sternly. 
"  You  don't  know  these  boys,  or  the  stock  they 
come  of,  or  you'd  never  use  such  words  about 
them.  If  there's  liars  and  thieves  about,  and  I 
guess  there  is,  it  ain't  them.  I'm  surprised  at 
you.  I  didn't  think  the  old  County  had  any  of 
your  sort.     What  were  you  meaning  to  do  :  kill 


212  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

my  chickens,  or  steal  them  ?  I  reckon  it's  my 
bounden  duty  to  let  folks  know  about  this  — 
but  —  there  — !  You  take  and  load  up  your 
chickens  and  clear  out,  and  never  do  you  set 
foot  on  the  Fair  grounds  again,  and  I  guess  we'll 
let  you  off." 

The  man  shuffled  away,  and  presently  he  re- 
turned with  a  little  wagon,  into  which  he  lifted 
his  coops.  The  Plymouth  Rocks  were  very 
creditable  birds,  who  looked  ashamed  of  their 
master,  although  his  deeds  were  no  fault  of 
theirs.  A  thin  little  woman  with  an  anxious, 
frightened  face  held  the  horse  while  the  man 
was  at  work.  She  looked  piteously  from  her 
husband  to  Mr.  Fieldwood,  but  she  said  nothing. 
She  looked  back  over  her  shoulder  as  they  drove 
away. 

"  Poor  soul ! "  said  the  farmer,  and  then  he 
turned  to  the  boys :  — 

«  You  needn't  wait  for  Spring  for  your  chickens,  | 

my  lads.  That  young  cockerel,  and  those  two  pul- 
lets are  yours  right  here  and  now.  The  poor 
fellow's  punished  enough,  I  hope,  being  found 
out  in  a  mean  trick  like  that,  so  there's  no  need 
for  any  of  us  to  spread  tales.  Breath  don't  last 
so  long  with  any  of  us  that  we  need  waste  it 


THE   COUNTY   FAIR  213 

speaking  evil  of  others.  That  poor  little  woman 
of  his ! " 

A  rooster  and  two  hens !  And  out  of  the  pre- 
mium coop !  And  just  for  nothing  at  all,  one 
might  say !  The  boys  were  shamefaced  enough 
with  their  mumbled  thanks,  but  they  were  jubi- 
lant with  pride  directly  they  .were  alone. 

The  Fair  was  over.  In  the  mellow  sunlight  of 
the  still  autumnal  day,  people  drove  homeward, 
tired  and  happy.  Christmas  was  antedated  by 
two  months,  as  Rachel,  in  the  effervescence  of  her 
joy,  presented  the  sofa  pillow  adorned  with  the 
bluest  of  blue  ribbons  to  the  Doctor's  Wife,  and 
danced  madly  about  with  the  greenest  of  one- 
dollar  notes  in  her  hand.  The  boys  were  sternly 
arraigned  at  the  bar  of  Tutu's  justice  when  they 
came  lagging  in,  carrying  the  Plymouth  Rocks  in 
a  basket. 

"  He  gave  them  to  you  ?  What  for  ?  You 
didn't  legf' 

"  No'm,"  said  the  boys. 


CHAPTER   XII 
ttrtie  (lEonqum  of  3ipoll^on 

It  would  almost  seem  as  if  a  perpetual  sun- 
shine flooded  the  Village ;  but  even  there  the 
trees  were  not  always  clothed  with  the  pride  of 
their  Midsummer  green,  nor  were  the  song-spar- 
rows always  trilling  their  simple  litany  of  love 
and  faith  in  the  fields  that  lay  about  it.  Often  and 
often,  in  after  years  and  in  alien  places,  when  the 
children,  looking  backward,  listened,  in  fancy, 
for  the  mellow  thunder  of  the  wings  of  nesting 
swallows  in  the  old  chimney  at  home,  or  waited 
for  a  breath  of  lilac  against  the  cheek,  they  re- 
membered that  even  there  it  was  not  always 
lilac-tide,  and  that  sometimes  it  was  only  the 
Winter  wind  that  sang  over  the  chimney. 

Winter  began,  properly  speaking,  when  wal- 
nuts were  ripe,  and  when  Saturdays  were  Satur- 
days no  longer,  but  Walnut  days. 

To  the  intense  disgust  of  Sophy  Jane  and 
Rachel,  girls  were  not  permitted  to  share  in  this 

214 


THE   CONQUEST   OF  APOLLYON     215 

sport.  It  would  spoil  their  hands,  their  mothers 
said.  To  this  unreasonable  reason  the  little 
girls  replied  with  a  display  of  hands  so  scratched 
and  stained  and  weather-beaten,  that  it  seemed 
hardly  possible  that  further  injury  could  befall 
them.  This  unlucky  exhibition  only  fortified  the 
two  mothers  in  their  decision ;  so  the  boys  went 
alone  to  the  deep  rich  woods,  and  came  back  at 
nightfall  laden  with  nuts,  quite  unhampered  by 
the  presence  of  girls. 

Before  walnuts  ripen  there  must  be  a  heavy 
frost,  and  even  after  a  light  frost  the  leaves 
begin  to  change  their  colors  and  to  fall.  Then 
it  is  really  Winter,  although  there  are  days  and 
even  weeks  when  the  still  air  is  a  mellow  haze 
through  which  the  lingering  sunshine  falls  on  the 
Village  maples.  Red  and  crimson,  russet  and 
gold,  they  stand  in  the  brooding  light  that  trans- 
forms the  familiar  streets  into  a  New  Jerusalem, 
and  whether  one  is  in  the  body  or  not,  matters 
little ;  one  is  conscious  only  of  the  glory  and  the 
splendor,  and  the  tender  melancholy  of  the  Fall. 

When  leaves  are  fallen.  Bonfire  time  begins. 
Even  in  these  latter  days  it  is  a  season  by  itself, 
like  Apple-blossom-time,  or  Harvest ;  but  on  the 
Day  before  Yesterday  it  was  the  Year's  high 


216     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

carnival  —  waited  for,  planned  for,  during  the 
long,  hot  weeks  of  the  inland  Summer,  and  for 
many  days  scenting  the  still  air  with  the  pecul- 
iar, evasive  odors  of  the  smoke  of  burning  leaves. 

At  the  Old  House  there  were  only  pine  trees, 
which  kept  their  slender  needles  to  fight  the  frost 
with  all  through  the  snowy  days,  near  at  hand, 
so  there  was  no  Bonfire  there.  Sophy  Jane  and 
Jimmy  postponed  theirs  until  after  the  Oak 
House  festival,  so  the  children  made  a  combined 
assault  upon  the  Doctor's  wealth  of  leaves,  and 
Dick's  Bonfire  was  the  event  of  the  season.  It 
was  always  Dick's  Bonfire,  no  matter  how  many 
helpers  he  had. 

The  yard  was  divided  off  into  districts,  and 
rakes  were  provided.  It  would  have  been  hard 
work  to  rake  off  so  many  leaves  but  for  the  game 
they  made  out  of  it,  and  the  fun  and  romping 
of  the  long,  bright  holiday.  They  made  forts 
of  leaves,  and  carried  them  with  wild  charges  of 
shoutings  and  laughter.  They  made  ambushes, 
and  played  at  being  Indians,  with  fierce  whoops 
and  blood-curdling  yells  of  defiance,  and  they 
buried  each  other  under  rustling  piles.  The 
little  girls  would  have  been  glad  to  deck  them- 
selves with  chaplets  and  wreaths  of  the  many- 


THE   CONQUEST    OF   APOLLYON      217 

tinted  beauties ;  but  this  took  so  much  time,  and 
was  so  essentially  feminine,  that  after  a  little 
jeering  on  the  part  of  those  whose  opinions,  how- 
ever tyrannical  or  however  wrong,  had  always 
the  advantage  of  being  masculine,  they  left  off 
wishing  to  adorn  themselves,  and  raked  and 
jumped  and  shouted  as  lustily  as  the  boys. 

Other  boys  came.  At  first  they  stood  about, 
with  their  hands  in  their  pockets,  and  offered 
advice.  Then  they  joined  the  assault  or  defence 
of  the  forts,  and  added  the  strength  of  their 
lungs  to  the  war-whooping.  Sooner  or  later, 
however,  Dick  had  them  carrying  baskets  of 
leaves  out  into  the  open  street.  The  country 
folk  who  drove  into  towm  to  do  their  week-end 
errands,  drove  on  the  farther  side  of  the  road 
when  they  saw  that  Dick  was  arranging  his 
Bonfires.  This  was  very  considerate  of  them  ; 
but  they  all  knew  Dick,  and  they  all  felt  re- 
warded when  they  saw  the  pleased  look  on  his 
face,  although  he  did  not  otherwise  express  his 
thanks. 

The  leaves  were  piled  into  four  great  heaps, 
and  the  freed  grass  shone  green  with  the  pleas- 
ure of  being  able  to  look  about  once  more,  al- 
though had  the  foolish  grass  but  known  it,  a 


218     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

warm  blanket  of  the  good  leaves  had  been  very 
comfortable  a  little  later  on.  The  Cousins  had 
spent  the  day,  and  v^ere  to  be  sent  home  at  late 
bedtime.  Sophy  Jane  and  Jimmy  v^ere  to  re- 
main to  the  Bonfire  tea.  Tutu  had  made  the 
dearest  little  jumbles,  and  there  v^ere  to  be 
minced  chicken,  and  biscuits,  and  honey,  and 
raspberry  jam. 

The  Bonfires  v^ere  to  be  lighted  in  succession 
— one,  two,  three,  four.  Four  was  the  largest  of 
all.  It  was  named  for  the  Doctor,  the  others 
being  called  after  the  other  reigning  household 
powers,  —  Mary  Baily,  Tutu,  and  the  Doctor's 
Wife. 

It  seemed  as  if  night  would  never  come,  but 
finally  it  did.  The  sun  sank  behind  the  western 
woods,  and  the  soft,  purple  darkness  sifted  down 
from  the  skies.  Venus  showed  her  large,  lam- 
bent flame ;  a  thin  sickle  of  a  moon  peeped 
through  the  bared  boughs. 

A  good  many  boys  stood  about,  but  for  the 
most  part  they  said  nothing,  only  looking  on, 
with  their  hands  in  their  pockets  as  usual.  The 
girls  sat  on  the  carriage  block.  Dick  had  the 
match-box. 

"  I  say,"  ventured  one  boy,  "  why  don't  you 


THE   CONQUEST   OF   APOLLYON     219 

have  some  real  fun  with  your  fire  ?  If  it  was 
mine,  I'd  put  some  powder  under  the  leaves,  and 
show  you  a  thing  or  two." 

"  But  it  isn't  yours,"  replied  Dick. 

«I  could  get  you  a  cartridge  or  two  out  of 
my  brother's  drawer,"  insinuated  the  boy.  ''  He 
was  in  the  war,  and  he  ain't  afraid  of  a  little 
powder,  nor  me  neither." 

"  That's  all  right,"  answered  Dick.  "  When 
you  have  a  Bonfire,  you  can  do  what  you  like 
with  it.     This  suits  me." 

The  boy  looked  angrily  at  Dick.  His  name 
was  Anthony,  and  his  father  was  a  drunken 
tailor.  The  Doctor's  Wife  usually  made  some 
excuse  to  call  Dick  in  when  she  saw  Anthony 
about.     Now  Anthony  lurked  away. 

There  was  a  thrill  of  excitement.  Dick  struck 
a  match  and  held  it  to  the  wad  of  waste-paper 
Paul  held  in  his  hand. 

The  match  went  out. 

The  second  match  went  better.  The  boys 
made  a  little  cave  in  the  side  of  the  first  leaf 
moimd,  Jim  stood  close  to  keep  off  a  possible 
breeze,  and  the  little  girls  held  their  breath. 

A  tiny  wreath  of  pale  blue  smoke,  then  a  puff 
of  white,  then  a  thin  tongue  of  quivering  scarlet, 


220     THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

and  then,  oh !  then,  the  splendor  of  the  leaping 
flames  as  the  leaves  were  glorified  and  changed 
and  passed  into  a  new  life  through  the  smoke 
and  the  fire,  the  quivering  heat,  the  whirling 
sparks,  and  the  graying,  whitening  ashes. 

Mary  Baily  smiled  over  the  gate  as  she  watched 
her  namesake  flame  and  fade. 

"  The  likes  of  that  for  a  cross  old  Irish  girl 
like  me  !  "  she  marvelled.  "  It's  a  proud  woman 
I  am  this  night,  Dick,  me  darlin',  and  it's  your- 
self's  the  rale  gintleman  to  think  of  givin'  me 
namesake  such  a  fine  wake,  —  God  rest  all  Chris- 
tian sowls !  I  must  run  in,  now,  and  see  to  me 
supper,  and  may  the  Lord  love  ye  all  for  a  set 
of  fine  childer." 

Tutu  came  out  to  view  the  hecatomb  erected 
in  her  honor.  She  had  her  apron  full  of  sugar 
cakes,  so  the  second  Bonfire  was  an  even  greater 
success  than  the  first  had  been.  Anthony  came 
sauntering  back  just  before  the  cakes  were  dis- 
tributed. No  one  saw  him  come  out  of  the 
shadow  but  Dick,  who  looked  at  him  earnestly. 
Why  had  he  come  from  the  eastward,  when  his 
home  lay  at  the  western  end  of  the  street, — 
the  end  nearest  to  the  first  Bonfire  ? 

The  little  girls  were  wild  with  delight.    Sophy 


THE   CONQUEST   OF   APOLLYON     221 

Jane  and  Rachel  screamed  and  gesticulated. 
Molly  sat  dumb  with  rapture  on  the  carriage 
block.  Daffy  and  Betty  had  scrambled  down 
and  had  joined  the  boys.  Daffy  took  Dick's 
hand,  and  looked  up  trustfully  into  his  face. 
She  was  beginning  to  be  afraid  of  the  night,  and 
of  the  flames,  but  by  his  side  she  felt  safe.  His 
dark  face  glowed,  and  the  dancing  firelight 
showed  his  great  unfathomable  eyes.  He  looked 
down  at  his  little  sister  and  gave  her  one  of 
his  rare  smiles.  No  words  were  needed  when 
Dick  smiled. 

The  third  Bonfire  was  a  thing  of  the  past. 
The  foundry  whistles  blew  for  six  o'clock,  and 
the  streets  were  thronged  with  workmen  going 
home  to  their  well-earned  Sunday's  rest.  Some 
had  empty  dinner-pails  in  their  hands  and  pipes 
between  their  teeth.  Most  of  the  men  were  hurry- 
ing supperward,  but  a  few  stopped  to  see  the  fires. 

A  little  careless  now,  Dick  approached  the  last 
heap  of  leaves,  —  the  one  named  for  the  Doctor, 
and  which  the  silent  little  son  hoped  would  be 
the  best  of  all.  He  scratched  the  match,  and 
without  letting  go  of  Daffy's  hand,  flung  it 
among  the  dry  leaves.  Jimmy  had  run  into  the 
office  to  call  the  Doctor  to  the  door,   and   the 


222     THE   DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

pale,  handsome  face  of  the  Doctor's  Wife  showed 
at  the  window. 

There  was  a  horrible  moment  when  the  uni- 
verse seemed  rent  into  ten  thousand  fragments, 
and  a  noise  louder  than  the  loudest  thunder 
crashed  about  the  ears  of  the  blinded,  shriek- 
ing, terrified  children.  No  one  knew  what  had 
happened  until  Daffy  fell  suddenly  forward,  a 
bleeding,  helpless  little  figure,  which  strong  arms 
lifted  instantly  from  the  threatening  flame  and 
carried  into  the  house. 

Before  morning  they  knew  that  Daffy  would 
live,  and  that  there  would  be  no  marring  of  the 
pretty  face  of  the  little  girl  who  had  been  so 
cruelly  hurt  by  the  bursting  cartridges  placed 
there,  —  they  knew  only  too  well, —  by  Anthony 

Anthony,  who  was  in  far  worse  plight  than  his 

unconscious  victim ;  Anthony,  who  had  been 
carried  home  stunned  and  bleeding;  Anthony, 
whose  hand  was  against  the  whole  world,  and 
to  whom  no  love  or  sympathy  was  given. 

It  was  not  until  the  next  day  that  the  Doctor's 
family  heard  news  of  him. 

«  It  is  an  ugly  wound,"  said  the  Doctor,  gravely. 
"  And  I  am  very  much  afraid  of  the  fever  that 
is  rising." 


THE   CONQUEST   OF  APOLLYON     223 

<«  I  hope  he  will  die,"  said  Dick. 
«  My  son ! " 

«  Yes,  sir.  I  do.  He  tried  to  kill  Daffy,  and 
if  he  gets  killed  himself,  it  will  be  only  just." 

"He  did  not  try  to  kill  Daffy.  He  only 
thought  of  annoying  you  by  a  great  explosion. 
People  have  very  mistaken  ideas  on  many  sub- 
jects—  especially  of  what  is  just." 

"All  the  same  I  hope  Anthony  will  die," 
reiterated  Dick. 

Daffy  was  herself  again  directly,  a  little 
heroine  upon  whom  all  sorts  of  nice  things  were 
lavished.  She  was  taken  to  drive ;  she  was  fed 
with  dainties;  she  was  showered  with  flowers 
and  toys.  Beside  being  a  dear  little  child  whom 
everybody  loved,  the  Doctor  and  his  wife  had 
lived  lives  of  such  unselfish  goodness  that  people 
were  only  too  glad  to  repay  kindness  with  kind- 
ness. The  overflow  of  Daffy's  high  tide  of  for- 
tune reached  as  far  as  Sophy  Jane,  and  the  boys 
all  but  had  dyspepsia  from  their  share  of  the 
crumbs  that  fell  from  her  table. 

"  Anthony  is  very,  very  ill,"  said  the  Doctor. 
"  His  father  is  rarely  sober  and  his  mother  is 
almost  broken  down  with  sorrow  and  poverty 
and  this  new  burden.     His  fever  is  gone,  and  he 


224     THE  DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

needs  better  nourishment  than  he  is  likely  to  get, 
poor  fellow !  I  wish,  my  dear,  that  you  would 
send  some  chicken  broth  and  a  little  basket 
of  nice  things  to  tempt  him.  Dick  will  take 
them." 

"  No,  sir,  please." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  understand  you.  Do  you 
know  that  even  yet  Anthony  may  die  ?  " 

« I  hope  he  will." 

"  Dick,"  said  the  Doctor,  sternly,  «  we  may  as 
well  have  a  few  plain  words  now  and  have  done. 
Do  you  honestly  think  that  Anthony's  sin  is  as 
great  as  your  own  ?  You  have  hatred  and  mur- 
der in  your  heart.  It  seems  to  me  a  small  thing 
that  your  hands  are  clean." 

It  was  the  Doctor  who  fought  his  bravest  for 
the  life  that  seemed  of  little  value  to  others.  It 
was  the  Doctor's  Wife  who  sat  hour  by  hour  at 
the  poor  bedside,  and  shifted  pillows,  and  bathed 
hot  hands,  and  told  endless  stories.  It  was  Tutu 
who  carried  the  basket  of  dainties,  day  after 
day.  It  was  the  little  sisters  who  loaned  their 
favorite  story-books,  and  saved  their  pocket 
money  for  oranges  for  the  sick  boy.  Dick 
uttered  no  word  of  sympathy,  but  went  about 
with  angry  and  revengeful  thoughts. 


THE   CONQUEST   OF   APOLLYON     225 

The  Doctor  watched  his  little  son  anxiously, 
and  through  many  and  many  a  lonely  hour  his 
heart  ached  sorely  for  him.  There  was  an  odd 
reserve  about  the  lad  which  made  the  father 
pause  with  reverence  before  the  unopened  portals 
of  the  young  soul  which  was  facing  its  first 
encounter  with  the  old,  bitter  problem  of  the 
two  natures  which  are  the  heritage  of  every  son 
of  man.  Would  evil  conquer  ?  Would  good  ? 
Alone  the  boy  must  fight  the  battle  if  he  would 
come  out  of  it  wdth  any  strength  worth  the 
having. 

The  weeks  passed.  Frost  came.  Snow  came. 
Thanksgiving  came  and  went ;  so  did  Christmas 
and  New  Year's  Day.  The  air  was  filled  with 
the  sweet  clamor  of  sleigh-bells  ;  the  white  streets 
were  gay  with,  the  sleds  of  the  children ;  the 
black  ice  of  the  beautiful  ponds  was  smooth  for 
the  feet  of  the  skaters. 

The  children  had  a  new  book.  It  was  a  book 
of  Arctic  adventures,  and  was  one  of  the  gifts 
of  Christmas-tide.  They  could  hardly  eat,  they 
were  so  anxious  to  read  and  reread  its  fascinat- 
ing pages.  As  far  as  possible  they  altered  their 
lives,  speech,  and  thoughts  to  suit  polar  condi- 
tions,  nor  were   they  long  in    devising   a   new 


226     THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

game  to  which  the  bitter  cold  and  deep  snows 
of  a  memorable  January  lent  their  aid. 

The  vegetable  garden  was  the  Arctic  Circle, 
and  by  dint  of  much  labor,  and  with  the  assist- 
ance of  nightly  frosts,  the  long  garden-path  was 
flooded  and  frozen  into  an  Arctic  Sea.  The 
asparagus  bed  made  a  very  good  Greenland, 
and  a  gilt-paper  star  tacked  to  a  lath  made  an 
admirable  North  Pole.  Snow  was  rolled  into 
balls,  and  built  into  a  domed  dwelling,  which 
could  be  entered  through  a  snow  tunnel,  if  one 
were  gifted,  as  indeed  all  the  children  were,  in 
the  gentle  art  of  crawling  on  the  stomach.  Two 
or  three  old  buffalo-robes  were  borrowed  from 
the  stable,  and  Harry,  always  ready  to  help  on 
a  good  cause,  was  trained  to  drag  the  sled  over 
hummocks  which  had  once  been  onion  patches 
or  squash  hills.  Caches  were  placed  with  thrifty 
frequency,  and  into  these  all  the  food  that  could 
be  secreted  from  breakfast  was  hidden.  A  cachS 
had  to  be  opened  now  and  then,  when  hunger 
pressed,  and  the  flavor  of  frozen  sausages  and 
apples  was  loudly  praised.  It  was  to  be  a  most 
realistic  play,  and  the  children  could  hardly  wait 
for  Saturday  to  come. 

Dick  was  coming  home  from  school  on  Friday 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  APOLLYON     227 

noon.  He  had  his  sled  with  him,  —  a  strong, 
fine  sled,  with  his  name  painted  upon  its  red 
surface.  He  was  rosy  with  exercise;  his  lithe 
little  body  quivered  with  the  life  within  that 
responded  to  the  brave  call  of  the  cold,  sharp 
air.  He  had  just  reached  his  own  gate  when  he 
looked  up  and  saw  Anthony. 

The  boy  was  walking  slowly.  He  was  wrapped 
up  almost  to  his  eyes,  which  looked  out  of  gaunt 
hollows  above  his  thin  cheeks.  Pain,  Weakness, 
Poverty,  —  all  these  three  great  Angels  spoke  for 
him  who  spoke  no  word  for  himself. 

Dick  looked  at  Anthony,  and  suddenly,  as  if 
they  had  never  been,  all  the  hatred  and  bitter- 
ness he  had  cherished  were  slain.  He  was 
ashamed  of  his  cowardice  in  wishing  worse  to 
one  already  so  hardly  off.  He  was  alive  —  alive 
forever — to  the  call  of  that  universal  brother- 
hood which  he  had  scorned.  It  was  a  crucial 
moment,  but  all  he  said  was :  — 

"  Hey-oh,  Anthony  !  " 

"  Hey-oh ! " 

« If  you're  going  home,  it's  a  little  down  hill 
most  of  the  way,  and  you  may  as  well  try  my 
sled.     She's  a  ripper." 

«I  guess  I  ain't  strong  enough  to  pull  her  back." 


228      THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

"Who  said  anything  about  pulling  back? 
I'm  going  to  catch  on  behind." 

Arrived  at  Anthony's  door,  Dick  said :  — 

"We're  going  to  have  a  nev^  game  in  our 
garden  to-morrov^,  —  Arctic  explorers.  We've  got 
a  snow  house  built  and  everything  you  can  think 
of.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  be  the  Esquimau 
chief  ?  He's  to  wear  a  buffalo-robe,  and  Harry's 
to  pull  him  about  on  the  sled.  The  girls  are  to 
be  in  the  game,  too.  Daffy's  going  to  be  a  kind 
of  pappoose." 

It  was  now  Anthony's  turn  to  think  of  things. 
Boys  do  not  explain  their  thoughts,  so  all 
Anthony  said  was:  — 

"  Yep  !  I'll  come." 

At  supper-time  the  children  were  full  of  excite- 
ment. Tutu  was  forced  to  keep  a  vigorous  look- 
out lest  all  the  tea-biscuit  be  added  to  the 
treasures  of  the  caches.  She  had  already  con- 
fiscated two  from  Rachel's  apron  pocket.  They 
were  talking  of  a  feat  just  accomplished  by  each 
in  turn,  —  a  most  gratifying  feat.  One  had 
crawled  in  through  the  tunnel  so  far  that  one's 
head  and  trunk  were  well  inside  the  snow  house. 
A  safety  match  had  then  been  lighted,  and  one 
had  seen  the  glittering  ice  of    the  domed  roof. 


THE   CONQUEST   OF   APOLLYON     229 

One  would  have  liked  more  than  that  brief 
glacial  moment,  but  one's  heels  were  pulled  from 
behind,  and  one  was  loudly  admonished  not  to 
be  a  pig  and  take  more  than  a  fair  turn.  Even 
Daffy  had  had  her  share  of  the  performance. 

"  Who  are  in  the  game  ?  "  asked  the  Doctor. 

"Jim  and  Paul  and  Sophy  Jane  and  Molly 
are  to  be  explorers,"  explained  Rachel.  "  Daffy 
and  Betty  and  I  are  to  be  squaws  and  pap- 
pooses.  Harry  is  going  to  be  a  whole  dog-train, 
all  by  himself.  We  w^ere  going  to  have  the  two 
cats  for  reindeers,  and  Paul  made  them  a  nice 
little  corral^  but  they  scratched  so,  we've  had  to 
leave  them  out.  Dick  is  to  be  the  Esquimau 
chief." 

"  No,"  corrected  Dick,  "  Anthony  is." 

"  Anthony  !  "  exclaimed  the  Doctor,  in  a  voice 
of  surprise  and  content.     "  Anthony  !  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Dick. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

Gkakdpa  came  into  town  quite  early  that 
day.  He  drove  old  Robin,  and  sat  in  a  little, 
light-running  wagon.  The  Tribune,  neatly  folded, 
was  sticking  out  of  his  pocket,  as  he  stopped  at 
Oak  House  door  to  see  if  all  went  well  with  his 
daughter  and  the  little  ones.  He  had  looked  at 
the  head-lines  of  the  paper,  directly  the  newsdealer 
handed  it  to  him,  and  had  learned  from  them 
that  the  end  of  the  world  had  not  yet  arrived. 
Like  other  men  of  his  day  he  was  never  quite 
sure  of  it  until  the  Tribune  made  its  daily  an- 
nouncement—  in  effect  —  that  the  trusty  little 
planet  was  still  turning  and  whirling  on  its 
ordered  pathway. 

Grandpa  brought  an  invitation  for  all  the 
family  to  spend  the  day  following  at  Linwood,  — 
Tutu,  Mary  Baily,  and  all.  It  was  not  his  idea 
that  the  good  times  were  all  for  himself  and  his 
friends  only.     The  faithful  old  servants  enjoyed 

230 


THE   RED  ASTRAKHANS  231 

a  day  in  the  country  now  and  then,  as  well  as 
anybody,  and  they  were  asked  sometimes  when 
the  family  was  asked.  They  sat  on  the  porch 
that  overlooked  the  grassy  barnyard,  and  they 
walked  in  the  orchard  and  in  the  woods. 
When  the  day  was  fine,  in  Summer,  they  had 
dinner  on  the  porch.  It  was  a  treat  to  Bridget 
to  have  them  come. 

The  children  jumped  for  joy.  They  went  to 
Linwood  every  week  of  their  lives,  and  they 
knew  every  blade  of  grass  in  all  its  broad  acres ; 
but  each  visit  was  as  great  an  event  as  if  it  had 
been  a  first  voyage  into  foreign  countries.  Per- 
haps it  was  an  even  greater  delight  than  that 
would  have  been. 

Grandpa  had  further  news.  Rachel  was  to  go 
home  with  him  and  spend  the  night.  This,  like- 
wise, happened  often.  Daffy  was  too  little  to 
leave  dear  Mother,  and  Dick  was  a  boy,  and  boys 
are  sometimes  an  inconvenience,  so  it  was  always 
Rachel  who  stayed  all  night.  She  slept  on  a 
couch  in  Grandma's  room,  and  in  the  morning 
played  'possum  when  Grandpa  called  her  to 
breakfast. 

Then  Grandpa  would  say ;  — 

"  I  must  see  if  this  little  'possum  loves  water." 


232     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

And  then  a  little  gentle  sprinkling  of  water-drops 
would  fall  on  Rachel's  head.  Then  there  was 
great  fun. 

So  Rachel  jumped  harder  than  ever  when  she 
heard  that  she  was  to  spend  the  night.  She 
could  hardly  be  made  to  hold  still  while  a  clean 
dress  was  put  on  and  her  hair  was  brushed.  It 
was  very  short  hair,  as  short,  in  fact,  as  hair 
could  possibly  be ;  but  it  was  always  out  of 
order,  and  Tutu  seemed  to  live  with  a  brush  in 
her  hand.  The  back  of  the  brush  felt  quite  hard 
when  she  used  it  for  thumping.  To-day  Rachel 
hardly  noticed  the  thumps. 

Grandma  kept  a  little  nightgown  and  the 
necessary  brushes  at  Linwood  in  readiness  for 
such  occasions,  so  there  was  no  need  for  delay. 
Everybody  was  kissed  good-by,  and  Rachel 
climbed  up  on  the  seat  beside  Grandpa  with  a 
mind  full  of  joyous  anticipations. 

It  was  a  pleasant  August  day  —  yes ;  it  was 
certainly  in  August^  for  Grandpa  told  Dick  that 
the  Strawberry-apples  were  ripe,  and  they  ripen 
late  in  August.  Dick  at  once  decided  that  he 
could  not  wait  until  the  next  day  before  he  had 
a  taste  of  the  Strawberry-apples,  and  so  Grandpa 
told  him  to  jump  in.     He  could  get  a  ride  back 


THE   RED   ASTRAKHANS  233 

to  town  in  the  afternoon.  Daffy  looked  quite 
forlorn  until  her  mother  promised  to  take  her  up 
to  play  with  Betty :  then  she  cheered  up. 

Robin  jogged  slowly  along,  and  one  by  one 
the  familiar  homes  and  gardens  fell  behind  them, 
as  they  neared  the  open  country.  Dick  held  the 
reins  and  imagined  that  he  was  driving,  but 
Robin  would  have  jogged  slowly  along  just  the 
same  if  there  had  been  no  reins. 

The  children  were  very  quiet.  Grandpa  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  all  about  them,  and  was  hum- 
ming softly  to  himself.  When  he  hummed  that 
tune,  and  looked  off  over  the  fields  he  loved, 
with  his  large,  gentle  eyes,  the  children  were 
hushed  as  in  the  presence  of  some  great  and  won- 
derful mystery.  Their  first  knowledge  of  the 
mighty  powers.  Love  and  Death,  came  to  them 
with  the  refrain  of  the  old-fashioned  song :  — 

"  Where  are  the  days  when  our  hearts  knew  no  care 
Long,  long  ago  —  long,  long  ago  ? 
Vanished,  alas  !  —  and  the  Past  echoes  "  where  ?  " 
Long,  long  ago,  long  ago." 

Mother  had  told  them  that  then  the  faithful 
old  lover  was  thinking  of  the  bride  of  his  youth, 
their  beautiful  girl-grandmother  of  whom  he 
sometimes  spoke  to  them  in  a  voice  so  full  of 


234  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

love  and  longing  that  their  hearts  were  warm 
with  a  sympathy  they  could  but  dimly  under- 
stand. Long  years  before  she  had  gone  into  a 
World  better  fitted  than  this  for  one  so  gentle, 
so  lovely,  and  so  pure,  and  now  it  is  long  years, 
again,  since  he  went  to  find  her  there. 

They  looked  at  the  old  man,  and  they  made 
up  their  minds  never  again  to  be  unworthy  of 
the  trust  he  had  in  them.  Other  people  scolded 
them,  and  even  punished  them,  but  Grandpa 
never  even  suspected  that  Tier  grandchildren 
could  do  anything  amiss ! 

Arrived  at  Linwood,  and  the  greetings  from 
old  Major,  and  from  Bridget  over,  they  heard 
more  news.  One  of  the  Grand-aunts  had  driven 
out  and  taken  Grandma  to  spend  the  day  with 
still  another  Grand-aunt, — the  one  who  lived 
at  Locust  Lane.  They  would  be  back  to  early 
tea,  and  Bridget  was  to  have  supper  ready  for 
all,  an  extra  good  supper  —  fried  chicken,  and 
waffles,  and  quince  preserves.  Rachel  certainly 
was  in  luck ! 

Bridget  liked  Rachel  well  enough,  but  she 
liked  Dick  better.  He  was  not  so  messy,  and 
had  not  such  a  passion  for  bringing  into  the 
house  the  things  Bridget  called  "  thrash."     She 


THE  RED  ASTRAKHANS  235 

saw  that  Dick  looked  discomfited  that  the 
waffles  were  not  to  appear  until  supper-time,  so 
she  promised  him  that  apple-dumplings  with 
plenty  of  cream  should  be  ready  for  dinner  as 
well  as  the  delicate  custard  and  sponge  cake  that 
Grandma  had  ordered. 

Grandpa  sat  down  in  his  big  chair  by  the 
window,  and  unfolded  his  Tribune.  Some  little 
red  volumes  of  the  works  of  Swedenborg  lay  on 
the  window  ledge.  Before  he  put  on  his  specta- 
cles he  said  to  the  children :  — 

"  The  dew  is  off  the  grass  now,  so  you  may 
run  in  the  Orchard  and  play.  You  may  have 
any  apples  you  find  lying  on  the  grass,  but  you 
must  not  pick  any  of  the  Red  Astrakhans. 
Grandma  wants  those." 

There  never  was  another  Orchard  like  that 
one.  There  never  will  be  another.  All  the  year 
around  it  was  a  Paradise.  It  sloped  away  to  a 
deep  dim  woodland.  It  was  hedged  about  with 
a  quickset  hedge  where  birds  nested,  and  where 
rabbits  and  mice  and  ground-squirrels  were  safely 
hidden.  The  earliest  Spring  found  its  peach  trees 
ready  with  their  rose-pink  gowns,  and  its  cherry 
and  pear  trees  with  their  filmy  veils  of  silver, 
waiting  for  her  call.     Nowhere,  in  all  the  world, 


236  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

was  May  so  fairly  greeted  as  there  where  mill- 
ions of  apple  blossoms  garlanded  her  pathway 
and  pom^ed  their  incense  at  her  feet.  Violets 
and  buttercups  and  dandelions  grew  in  the  long 
blue-grass,  and  three-cornered  trilliums,  dancing 
Dutchman's  breeches,  and  clouds  of  pale  blue 
phlox  blooms  lurked  along  the  woodward  hedges. 
No  monarch  upon  earth  had  such  an  orchestra 
as  that  protected  by  the  gentle  owner  of  the 
trees  on  which  the  earliest  thrushes  greeted 
the  gray  dawn,  and  from  which  the  last 
robin-call  floated  upward  toward  the  evening 
star.  In  full-leafed  Summer-time,  in  deep-fruited 
Autumn,  or  in  the  white  stillness  of  the  Winter's 
snows  —  no;  there  was  never  an  Orchard  like 
that  one. 

Under  the  Strawberry-apple  tree  there  were 
already  many  fallen  apples.  They  were  not 
very  large,  or  very  sweet,  or  very  juicy,  but 
they  were  of  a  tempting,  dark  purple-crimson 
color,  and  were  altogether  worthy  of  Bridget's 
opinion  that  they  were  "  uncommon  tasty  grand 
little  apples  for  the  childer,"  and  the  childer 
in  question  ate  so  many  that  one  would  have 
thought  there  would  be  no  room  for  the  prom- 
ised dumplings.     There  was,  however,  and  there 


THE   RED   ASTRAKHANS  237 

was  room  for  a  wandering  desire  that  led  them 
from  the  Strawberry-apple  way  of  safety  to  the 
Red  Astrakhan  path  of  danger. 

The  Red  Astrakhans  hung  on  a  young  tree  in 
its  first  year  of  bearing.  The  fruit  was  not 
abundant,  but  it  was  large  and  beautiful,  red, 
with  touches  of  yellow,  and  looked  to  be  as 
juicy  as  the  Strawberry -apples  were  dry. 

Grandpa  had  said  that  they  might  have  any 
fruit  found  lying  on  the  grass.  There  was  none 
on  the  grass.  The  most  faithful  searching  could 
not  find  so  much  of  an  ant-nibbled  rind  as  might 
give  one  an  idea  of  how  a  Red  Astrakhan  tasted. 

It  was  an  easy  tree  to  climb,  a  very  easy 
tree,  even  for  a  girl  far  less  expert  in  the  art  of 
climbing  than  was  Rachel.  Grandpa  had  par- 
ticularly told  them,  however,  not  to  pick  any 
apples,  so  there  would  be  no  use  in  climbing. 

The  longer  they  stayed  under  the  tree,  the 
harder  it  seemed  that  they  should  not  taste  of 
those  alluring  apples  which  seemed  to  wink  at 
them  tauntingly  from  among  the  leaves. 

Dick  proposed  flight. 

"Let's  go  down  and  play  in  the  rick-yard," 
he  said. 

"No,"   replied   Rachel,  "let's  sit  right  down 


238     THE  DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

here.     Very  probably  some  of  the  apples'll  drop 
off  'most  any  minute.     Let's  wait." 

So  they  sat  down  and  waited  —  maybe  five 
minutes.     No  apples  fell. 

Some  freshly  cut  bean-poles  lay  in  a  neat 
pile  against  the  garden  fence. 

"  If  I  were  to  take  a  bean-pole  and  bang  at 
that  lowest  apple,  I  bet  it  'd  fall  off,"  suggested 
Rachel. 

"Mother  told  you  not  to  say  «I  bet,'"  cor- 
rected Dick. 

"Well,  I  do  bet  —  a  thousand  dollars,"  in- 
sisted Rachel.     "  I'll  just  show  you." 

"You  haven't  got  a  thousand  dollars,"  de- 
murred Dick.  "  And  Grandpa  said  we  shouldn't 
pick  the  apples." 

"  I  never  said  a  word  about  picking,"  retorted 
Rachel.     "  I  said  <  bang.'  " 

"  It's  all  the  same,"  said  Dick,  gloomily. 

«  Well,  I'm  going  to  do  it,  anyhow,  Mr.  'Fraid 
Cat,"  said  Rachel,  stoutly.  "I'm  just  as  par- 
ticular about  obeying  as  you  are,  'cause  if  you 
don't  obey,  you'll  go  to  the  Bad  Place  when  you 
die.  Grandpa  never  opened  his  mouth  about 
banging,  and  I  don't  call  it  wicked  if  you  doP 

She  scrambled  up  and  possessed  herself  of  a 


THE   RED   ASTRAKHANS  239 

stout  hickory  pole.  She  had  to  go  within  range 
of  the  bay-window  to  get  it,  but  she  strolled  by 
with  great  nonchalcmce^  and  returned  trailing  the 
pole  carelessly  after  her.  Grandpa's  head  was 
quite  hidden  by  the  Tribune.  It  was  just  as 
well,  perhaps,  that  Grandma  was  dining  out. 

She  got  back  in  safety  to  the  tree,  and  took 
up  a  position  on  the  side  farthest  from  the 
house.     She  raised  the  pole  and  aimed  at  the 

tree. 

A  good  many  leaves  were  cut  and  fell  ground- 
ward  before  an  apple  came  off,  but  Rachel  could 
aim  very  well  for  a  girl,  and  finally  an  apple 
dropped. 

Eve  now  took  a  large  bite.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
fine,  juicy  apple.     She  held  it  Adam-ward. 

"  Have  a  bite,  Dick.     Half's  yours." 

"  Grandpa  —  " 

"Oh,  bother!"  cried  Eve,  whose  thin  cheek 
was  now  rounded  out  by  the  second  bite,  and 
whose  utterance  was  rather  thick.  "Didn't  it 
fall  down,  and  didn't  I  pick  it  up  off  the  grass  ? 
You  saw  it  yourself.  And  all  Grandpa  said  was 
that  we  could  have  what  we  picked  up  off  the 
grass." 

Even  without  a  serpent,  and  in  the  most  Para- 


240  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

disiacal  of  Orchards  two  children  and  an  apple 
can  rehearse  the  oldest  of  the  Hebrew  dramas. 

Rachel  banged  again  and  again.  She  forgot 
everything  but  the  joy  of  the  chase,  and  the  lust 
of  conquest.  Five  —  six  —  nine  splendid  Red 
Astrakhans  lay  under  the  tree  when  Grandpa 
came  out  to  call  the  children  to  dinner. 

He  had  no  suspicions.  They  offered  no  expla- 
nations, and  he  did  not  see  the  hickory  pole. 

"All  those  apples?"  he  marvelled.  "I  did 
not  think  any  had  fallen.  Have  you  eaten  all 
you  wished  to?  Then  put  the  rest  in  your 
apron,  Rachel,  and  carry  them  into  the  house  for 
Grandma." 

Bridget  gave  one  quick  glance  at  the  hot  little 
face  as  they  all  came  into  the  cool  dining  room. 

"  That  Rachel,"  she  muttered,  as  she  went  out 
to  fetch  the  dumplings.  One  of  them  had  not 
turned  out  very  well.     Rachel  got  that  one. 

After  dinner  the  children  went  out  into  the 
barnyard.  Robin  was  there,  walking  about,  but 
the  other  horses  were  away  at  work.  Yarrow 
grew  there  in  white  drifts  under  the  locust  trees. 
Rachel  was  very  fond  of  the  bitter  scent  of 
bruised  yarrow  leaves,  and  she  loved  the  heads 
of  little  starry  blossoms,  but  to-day  she  did  not 


THE   RED   ASTRAKHANS  241 

feel  like  making  a  yarrow-ball.  Usually  there 
were  only  too  many  things  to  do  in  the  barn- 
yard, but  on  this  day  there  seemed  to  be  nothing 
at  all. 

The  fowls  walked  about  pecking  and  cluck- 
ing. It  would  be  fun  to  hunt  for  their  eggs,  for 
although  a  comfortable  hen-house  with  rows  of 
boxes  was  provided  for  the  hens,  only  the  oldest 
and  most  unimaginative  ones  were  content  with 
them,  and  it  was  as  good  as  a  puzzle  to  find  out 
where  the  other  hens  had  laid  their  eggs.  More 
than  once  Dick  had  found  great  stores  of  these 
under  the  barns  and  stables.  They  were  usually 
addled,  and  of  no  use,  but  to  find  them  was  an 
event. 

Grandpa  had  not  many  rules, — very  few  ;  but 
one  of  them  was  against  hunting  eggs  before 
four  o'clock.  No  one  knew  why,  but  such  was 
his  pleasure. 

"  I  can't  stay  until  four  o'clock,"  said  Dick. 
"All  the  town-going  wagons  will  have  gone  in 
by  that  time,  and  I  should  have  to  walk.  I  wish 
we  could  hunt  the  eggs  now." 

Rachel  went  back  to  the  dining  room  to  look 
at  the  clock.  It  seemed  to  be  slow  on  purpose. 
Rachel  had  often  noticed  that  trick  it  had.     Or 


242     THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

else  it  went  too  fast.  Four  ?  No  ;  it  was  only 
half-past  one.  Tick!  tock!  At  that  rate  one 
would  be  an  old  woman  before  four  o'clock 
should  have  come. 

Dick  kicked  his  heels  disconsolately  against 
the  barn  steps  when  Rachel  came  out  with  the 
bad  news. 

"  I  wish  I  hadn't  come  until  to-morrow,"  he 
said. 

Rachel  longed  to  comfort  him. 

"  Perhaps  it  would  save  Grandpa  time  if  we 
hunted  a  few,"  she  suggested ;  "  the  hardest  ones, 
you  know.  We  could  put  the  eggs  we  found 
into  the  hen-house  nests,  and  he  could  find  them 
when  he  comes  with  the  basket.  Grandpa's 
getting  old." 

"  We've  disobeyed  once  already,"  hinted  Dick, 
darkly. 

"We  didn't  really  pick,"  insisted  Rachel. 
"  We  only  banged."  And  then  she  added :  «  That 
is,  I  banged.     You  only  ate." 

"  It  was  just  as  bad,"  said  Dick.  Dick  was 
always  fair. 

« I'm  glad  I  did  it,  anyhow,"  said  the  light- 
hearted  Rachel.  "  The  apples  look  lovely  in  the 
china  bowl  by  the  clock,  and  it'll  be  a  surprise 


THE  RED   ASTRAKHANS  243 

for  Grandma.  And  I  think  it'll  be  real  kind  of 
us  to  sort  of  surprise  Grandpa  about  the  eggs. 
Come  on,  Dick." 

So  Dick  came  on.  The  hens  had  been  very 
industrious  and  there  were  a  great  many  eggs ; 
so  many  that  when  they  were  arranged  in  the 
hen-house  nests,  it  looked  like  sitting-time.  Even 
Grandpa  would  hardly  be  deceived  by  such  a 
remarkable  state  of  affairs.  The  thought  of  re- 
storing the  eggs  to  their  proper  places  never 
occurred  to  the  children  who  stood  aghast  at 
the  prospect  of  detection. 

Rachel's  brain  worked  with  fatal  quickness. 

«  Do  you  remember  the  fun  we  had  with  the 
spoiled  eggs  once  ?  We  took  them  out  into  the 
wood  lot  behind  the  barn  and  played  war.  We 
made  out  the  barn  was  a  fort,  and  the  tub  we 
sat  in  was  a  battle  ship,  and  we  bombarded  the 
fort.  It  was  lots  of  fun.  Let's  do  it  again.  No- 
body ever  goes  into  the  wood  lot,  and  Grandpa's 
got  plenty  of  eggs,  anyhow." 

She  had  already  filled  her  apron  with  eggs  and 
had  climbed  over  the  fence  in  safety  before 
Dick's  slower  thoughts  had  decided. 

"  I  hate  to  do  two  mean  things.  One  is  bad 
enough." 


244     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  want  to  get  found  out,  and 
never  be  allowed  to  come  out  here  again  to  the 
longest  day  you  live,  go  ahead,"  cried  the  spirited 
Rachel.  "  Ain't  we  all  the  grandchildren  he's 
got  in  the  world,  and  don't  you  suppose  he  likes 
to  have  us  enjoy  ourselves  when  we  come  visit- 
ing ?  What's  a  few  eggs,  and  half  of  'em  addled, 
most  likely  ?  " 

"  Are  they  ?  "     Dick  really  wanted  to  know. 

"  The  warm  weather  addles  'em,"  said  Rachel. 
"  The  only  way  to  tell  that  is  to  break  'em." 

The  bombardment  of  Fort  Barn  was  only  con- 
cluded with  the  bursting  of  the  last  piece  of  the 
ammunition  of  the  attacking  party.  It  was 
really  delightful  to  hear  the  egg-shell  crack  at 
the  moment  of  impact,  and  to  see  the  yellow 
stream  that  followed  crawl  slowly  down  the 
weather-boarding;  but  it  was  a  brief  delight, 
and  when  it  was  over,  Dick  spied  a  wagon  mov- 
ing townward,  and  ran  out  to  ask  for  a  ride. 
So  Rachel  was  left  alone. 

It  was  very  dull.  Bridget  had  gone  to  her 
room,  and  Grandpa  was  reading  in  Divine  Provi- 
dence. Old  Major  was  off  on  some  business  of 
his  own,  and  the  barn  cats  were  of  all  cats  the 
most   unsocial.     One   hardly  ever   came  within 


THE   RED   ASTKAKHANS  245 

even  spitting  distance  of  a  person.  Rachel  did 
not  care  to  make  either  larkspur  wreaths  or 
phlox-chains,  though  there  were  plenty  of  avail- 
able blossoms  in  the  part  of  the  garden  called 
hers.  Dick  had  arranged  to  collect  all  the  birds' 
nests,  now  long  since  emptied  of  birdlings,  on  the 
morrow,  so  it  would  not  be  fair  to  take  any  to- 
day, and  somehow  she  didn't  much  care  to  bring 
in  any  moss,  her  usual  way  of  earning  Bridget's 
enmity.  She  thought  about  the  eggs,  and  was 
appalled  at  the  magnitude  of  her  crime.  How 
should  she  bear  it  when  four  o'clock  struck,  and 
Grandpa  should  come  out  with  the  egg-basket  ? 
She  thought  of  the  Red  Astrakhans,  and  the  all- 
too-certain  questions  Grandma  would  propound 
when  she  saw  the  china  basket.  It  would  be 
far  easier,  however,  to  see  the  cold  gray  light  creep 
into  Grandma's  eyes,  than  to  know  that  Grandpa 
would  never  suspect  her  of  wrong-doing  in  the 
matter  of  the  eggs.     How  should  she  bear  it  ? 

Poor  little  Eve  !  After  the  joys  of  the  Garden, 
the  Flaming  Sword  of  the  Gateway ! 

It  was  but  ten  minutes  past  three !  Out  of 
her  trouble  there  was  left  only  the  path  of  the 
penitent  prodigal.  Her  Father's  house!  Her 
Mother's  arms  !     She  must  go. 


246     THE   DAY  BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

"  Grandpa,  I  want  to  go  home." 

He  laid  Divine  Providence  face  downward  on 
his  knee. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Rachel  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  see  Father  and  Mother." 

"  You  will  see  them  to-morrow." 

"  I  want  to  see  them  right  now.  I  want  you 
to  get  Robin  and  take  me  home." 

"  I  have  no  idea  of  doing  so,  however,"  he 
said,  taking  up  his  book.  "  Run  out  and  play, 
like  a  good  little  girl,  until  I  call  you  to  come 
and  help  me  hunt  the  eggs." 

Rachel's  fear  was  great,  her  remorse  was 
greater,  but  her  temper  was  greatest  of  all. 
She  stamped  her  foot.  Her  eyes  flashed.  For 
the  only  time  in  her  life  she  was  impertinent  to 
the  kind  old  friend  whose  beautiful  and  serene 
spirit  spread  its  own  divine  calm  about  him. 

"  I  tell  you  I  will  go  home  !     So  now  ! " 

This  time  J)i/vine  Providence  was  closed  firmly 
and  finally.  The  large  dark  eyes  looked  sorrow- 
fully down  at  the  angry  child.  The  Swedish 
seer  had  no  practical  advice  for  a  case  like  this 
for  which  Experience  was  the  only  teacher.  It 
was  hard  to  turn  the  tender  little  one  to  so  grim 
a  schoolmaster,  but  it  had  to  be  done. 


THE  RED  ASTRAKHANS  247 

"  If  you  wish  to  go  home,  Rachel,  you  can  go." 

"  How  can  I,  if  you  won't  take  me  ?  " 

"  You  have  two  feet,  my  dear." 

«  So  I  have.     Good-by  !  " 

There  was  no  loving  kiss,  only  the  angry 
seizure  of  the  straw  hat  and  the  blue  parasol, 
and  the  swift  flight  of  the  little  figure  down  the 
long  path  that  led  to  the  gate  and  the  public 
road, — a  wild  little  Ishmaelite,  whose  sins  goaded 
her  into  an  angry  arraignment  of  the  whole  world. 

Her  breath  gave  out  before  she  had  run  the 
length  of  the  first  field,  and  before  she  had 
reached  the  shelter  of  the  twin  oak  trees  that 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  road  a  little  rain 
began  to  fall.  Now  that  Rachel  reflected,  she 
remembered  that  the  sun  had  been  hidden  for 
several  hours,  and  that  the  skies  had  been  quite 
darkened  before  the  assault  on  Fort  Barn  had 
been  concluded.  Perhaps,  however,  it  was  only 
a  passing  shower,  and  so  she  would  stand  in 
between  the  trees  and  wait. 

The  drops  fell  faster  and  faster  on  the  leafy 
roof  above  her.  The  little  elves  of  the  rain  were 
whispering  together  with  a  cool,  delicious  mur- 
mur, as  they  hastened  about  on  their  task  of 
cleansing    and   refreshing   the   tired   old   earth. 


248  THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

What  a  busy,  cheerful  obedience  was  theirs,  as 
they  beat  down  the  soft  dust  of  the  road !  How 
clean  and  pure  was  the  wind  that  touched  the 
cheeks  of  the  little  girl!  A  thousand  fancies, 
born  of  the  raindrops  and  of  the  fragrant  Sum- 
mer day,  would  have  soothed  and  charmed  her, 
but  for  the  weight  that  lay  on  her  heart.  She 
must  hasten  on. 

The  roadway  was  muddy  now,  very  muddy, 
and  her  shoes  were  heavy  as  she  dragged  them 
from  the  soft  earth.  Tutu  hated  muddy  shoes, 
and  she  said  children  often  got  ill  from  having 
wet  feet,  and  sometimes  they  even  died.  Oh, 
how  Rachel  hoped  she  would  not  die  of  wet  feet 
before  she  got  home !  As  bad  as  she  was,  it 
would  be  awful !  If  she  could  only  get  her 
shoes  dried ! 

There  was  a  little  house  at  the  very  edge  of 
the  Village  which  had  often  excited  the  curiosity 
of  the  children,  but  about  which  they  had  never 
asked  any  questions.  Spruce  trees  grew  in  a 
dense  thicket  before  the  door,  between  which  and 
the  gate  was  the  cabbage  garden  and  the  potato 
patch.  In  the  Village  itself  the  civic  conscience 
demanded  a  clear  bit  of  lawn  in  everybody's 
yard ;  even  the  poorest  people  had  a  few  rods  of 


THE   RED   ASTRAKHANS  249 

grass,  but  here  was  no  grass,  only  vegetables. 
It  did  not  promise  much,  but  a  thin  line  of 
smoke  ascended  from  behind  the  spruce  trees, 
so  there  must  be  a  fire  there  by  which  wet  feet 
could  be  dried.     Rachel  went  in. 

Everybody  in  the  Village  knew,  or  they  ought 
to  know,  that  besides  their  own  Relations  and 
Particular  Friends,  and  the  World  in  General, 
there  lived  within  sound  of  the  Court  House 
clock,  criminals  of  matchless  powers  for  evil 
and  of  unexampled  malignity.  They  pretended 
to  be  this  or  that,  and  all  the  while  the  children 
knew,  and  the  Grown-ups  might  have  known, 
that  they  were  genii,  goblins,  and  witches,  who 
lived  only  to  harm  in  secret  and  who  worked 
so  cunningly  that  they  were  never  found  out. 
Sophy  Jane  was  witch-finder-in-general,  a  trait 
she  had  inherited  from  her  old  Salem  ancestry. 
She  knew  to  a  certainty  who  had  the  evil  eye, 
and  dark  and  terrible  were  the  tales  she  told  of 
mysterious  disappearances,  midnight  rides  on 
broomsticks,  black  cats,  and  "  spells."  The  souls 
of  her  listeners  were  harrowed  by  her  recitals, 
which  she  sometimes  rendered  more  potent  by 
surreptitious  peeps  at  the  pictures  in  the  for- 
bidden    Ingoldsby     Legends,     which    they    read 


250     THE   DAY   BEFORE   YESTERDAY 

whenever  the  books  could  be  smuggled  from  the 
Doctor's  shelves.  She  had  witch-names  for  all 
the  people  whose  appearance  did  not  please  her, 
and  of  them  all  no  name  was  so  awesome  as 
that  of  Mrs.  Earbobs. 

Rachel  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  little  house 
behind  the  fir  trees.  It  was  opened  by  no  less 
a  person  than  Mrs.  Earbobs,  while  a  black  cat 
appeared  from  under  the  step,  and  was  ready  to 
rub  itself  against  Rachel's  legs. 

It  was  a  critical  moment.  Rachel  was  a 
curious  compound  of  cowardice,  and  what  Na- 
poleon called  "  two-o'clock-in-the-morning  cour- 
age." It  was  the  turn  of  the  courage  now,  so 
she  walked  in  pleasantly,  and  took  her  seat 
by  the  kitchen  stove,  which  stood  in  the  main 
room  of  the  cottage. 

"  I'm  the  Doctor's  little  girl,"  she  said,  lifting 
the  cat  to  her  knees,  and  perching  her  shoes  on 
the  hearth.  "I've  been  spending  the  day  at 
Grandpa's  at  Linwood ;  I  was  going  to  stay  all 
night  —  but  —  well  —  I  decided  to  go  home. 
So  I  had  to  walk  and  my  shoes  are  very  wet.  I 
thought  maybe  you'd  let  me  dry  them  so  I  won't 
die." 

Mrs.  Earbobs  looked  at  her.     Her  eyes  were 


THE   RED   ASTRAKHANS  251 

very  near-sighted,  so  she  frowned  a  good  deal, 
and  the  large  golden  hoops  that  hung  from  her 
ears,  and  that  had  impressed  Sophy  Jane,  shook 
as  she  bent  down  to  catch  Rachel's  words. 

"  You  was  to  stay  all  night,"  she  repeated, 
crossly,  "but  you  decided  to  go  home,  an'  you 
was  allowed  to  walk  !     What  you  been  up  to  ?  " 

«  Up  to  ?  "    Rachel  trembled. 

"  Yes  !  Up  to !  Can't  you  hear  ?  It  don't 
sound  straight."  Mrs.  Earbobs  went  on  severely. 
"  The  folks  up  to  Linwood  ain't  the  kind  to 
let  you  go  traipsin'  about  the  world,  over  muddy 
roads  in  the  rain,  with  nothin'  to  pertect  you 
but  that  'ere  little  blue  umbrelly,  'less  sumpin' 
was  up.  I've  seen  children  before  now !  I 
know  'em ! " 

"I  —  I  wanted  to  go  home,"  said  Rachel. 

Mrs.  Earbobs  viewed  the  little  shoes  with  dis- 
favor. 

"There's  worse  things  'n  muddy  shoes,"  she 
said  "  an'  one  of  'em's  a  muddy  heart.  What 
you  been  up  to  ?  " 

Rachel  arose  with  much  dignity. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  must  go,"  she  said.  «  Thank  you 
for  letting  me  come  in.  I  hope  I  didn't  spoil  the 
nice  clean  floor." 


252     THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

"  What  you  been  up  to  ? "  reiterated  the 
woman,  sharply.  "  Tell,  I  say  !  Have  you  got 
it  in  your  pocket  ?  " 

Rachel  was  outside  the  door.  She  felt  the 
strength  of  her  youth  in  her  feet. 

"  Sophy  Jane  said  you  were  a  witch,"  she 
announced,  and  then  she  flew. 

"  I'll  Sophy  Jane  her  and  you,  too  ! "  screamed 
Mrs.  Earbobs,  angrily.  "  What  was  you  up  to  ? 
Have  you  got  it  in  your  pocket  ?  Half  s 
mine ! " 

Rachel  heard  no  more ;  she  was  around  the 
curve  in  the  road  before  the  shrill  voice  died 
away,  and  not  until  then  did  she  discover  that 
her  precious  blue  parasol  was  left  behind  in  the 
witch's  cave.  Well,  the  cat  might  have  it  for 
all  she  cared.  She  couldn't  get  much  wetter  if 
she  tried.     So  she  plodded  on. 

The  very  last  house  in  the  Village  was  a 
carpenter-shop.  The  Carpenter  was  a  little 
Englishman,  and  he  and  his  old  Swedish  wife 
lived  near  the  shop.  He  was  the  friend  of  all 
little  children,  though  he  had  none  of  his  own, 
and  it  was  with  sincere  gladness  that  Rachel 
saw  him  leaning  beside  the  door  of  his  shop, 
smoking  his  short  black  pipe. 


THE   RED   ASTRAKHANS  253 

"  Why,  Rachel,"  cried  the  Carpenter.    "  How's 

this  ?  " 

Rachel  was  tired  of  evasions.  The  Carpenter's 
eyes  were  kind,  and  even  his  gray  whiskers 
bristled  with  benevolence.  She  took  the  hand 
he  reached  down  to  her,  and  sprang  up  lightly 
into  the  clean  little  shop. 

"  I  went  out  to  Grandpa's  to  spend  the  night," 
she  confessed.  "  I've  done  four  bad  things,  and 
I'm  going  home  to  ask  Mother  to  forgive  me. 
She  always  does." 

"  Well,  now,  I  dare  say  you  wasn't  so  dread- 
ful bad,"  said  the  Carpenter,  kindly.  "  But  it's 
right  for  folks  to  ask  for  pardon.  Real  ladies 
always  do,  and  your  mother  couldn't  have  a 
little  girl  that  wasn't  a  real  lady." 

Rachel  was  humbled. 

"I'm  afraid  she  has,  though,"  she  said  con- 
tritely. "I'm  worse  than  you  could  possibly 
believe.  I've  told  a  lie,  or  at  least  I've  done 
one ;  and  I've  stolen,  or  at  least  it  was  just  the 
same,  for  the  eggs  weren't  mine.  And  bad  as  it 
was  to  smash  them,  and  to  bang  the  Red  Astra- 
khans, it  was  really  worse  to  be  hateful  to  dear 
Grandpa  and  to  call  Mrs.  Earbobs  a  witch. 
Mother   will   be   so   ashamed    of   me,   and  I'm 


254     THE   DAY   BEFORE  YESTERDAY 

ashameder  than  I  can  think  myself.  I  just  had 
to  hurry  home  to  tell  her,  and  oh,  —  do  you  think 
she'll  punish  me  ?  I  hope  she  will,  really  hard. 
If  I'd  told  Grandpa,  he'd  never  have  said  a  v^ord, 
but  just  looked  at  me,  and  I'd  have  knov^n  he 
was  thinking  how  sorry  my  very  own  Grand- 
mother would  be  in  Heaven,  and  that  I  could  not 
have  borne.  I  do  try  to  be  good,  but  I  seem  to 
get  badder  and  badder  every  day.  I  need  not 
have  called  her  a  witch,  though." 

"Who  —  a  witch?" 

"Mrs.  Earbobs.  The  —  lady  —  who  lives  up 
in  the  little  house  yonder.  Sophy  Jane  always 
said  she  was  a  witch ;  but  it  was  worse  than 
horrid  in  me  to  call  her  so." 

"  Oh,  I  see !  No  ;  the  poor  body  isn't  a  witch ; 
but  she's  not  quite  right  in  her  mind.  She 
would  not  remember  what  you  said  two  min- 
utes after  you  were  gone,  so  you  did  not  do  her 
any  real  harm." 

Rachel  was  glad  to  hear  that,  but  she  was 
more  than  glad  when  the  good  old  Carpenter 
took  her  by  the  hand,  and  said  kindly :  — 

"We'll  go  into  the  house  now,  and  the  old 
Wife  will  dry  you  nicely,  and  give  us  both  some 
supper.     I  am  going  into  the  Village  for  some 


THE   RED   ASTRAKHANS  255 

screws  after  a  bit,  so  I'll  take  you  home  safe 
under  my  umbrella,  and  then  you  can  tell  your 
trouble  to  your  mother.  You  ain't  a  bad  little 
girl  at  heart,  Rachel,  for  all  you  do  get  into  such 
a  sight  of  scrapes,  and  I  don't  doubt  you'll  grow 
up  to  be  a  fine  woman,  some  day,  like  your 
mother." 


THE  GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 
ILLUSTRATED  EDITIONS 
OF   FAMOUS   BOOKS  a  jh  a 


The  following  books  are  large  izmo  rolumes  sH^^/4  inches  in 
size,  are  printed  on  laid  paper  of  the  highest  grade,  and  bound  in  cloth, 
with  elaborate  decorative  covers.  They  are  in  every  respect  beautifUl 
books. 

UNCLE  TOM*S  CABIN— By  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 
A  new  edition,  printed  from  entirely  new  plates,  on  fine  laid  paper 
of  extra  quality,  with  half-tone  illustrations  by  Louis  Betts. 

PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS— By  John  Bunyan. 

A  new  edition  of  Bunyan's  Immortal  allegor)',  printed  from  new 
plates  on  fine  laid  paper,  with  illustrations  by  H.  M.  Brock. 

THE  WIDE,  WIDE  WORLD— By  Susan  Warner. 

Printed  from  entirely  new  plates,  on  fine  laid  paper  of  superior 
quality,  and  illustrated  with  numerous  drawings  by  Fred  Pegram. 

THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  (Maude  Adams  Edidon) 
—By  J.  M.  Barrie. 
Printed  on  fine  laid  paper,  large  i2mo  in  size,  with  new  cover  de- 
sign in  gold,  and  eight  frjll-page  half  tone  illustrations  from  the  play. 

PROSE  TALES— By  Edgar  Allan  Poe. 

A  large  i2mo  volume,  bound  in  cloth,  with  decorative  cover. 
Containing  eleven  striking  drawings  by  Alice  B.  Woodward,  a  biog- 
raphy of  the  author,  a  bibliography  of  the  Tales,  and  comprehensive 
notes.     The  best  edition  ever  published  in  a  single  volume, 

ISHMAEL  >  By  Mrs.  E.  D.  E.  N.  Southworth. 

SELF-RAISED      )   The  two  vols,  in  a  flat  box,  or  boxed  separately^ 
Handsome  new  editions  of  these  two  old  favorites,  with  illustrations 
by  Clare  Angell 

THE  FIRST  VIOLIN— By  Jessie  Fothergill. 

A  fine  edition  of  this  popular  musical   novel,  with  illustrations  by 

Clare  Angell. _^^^^_^_^^__.^_^_^— 

EACH  VOLUME  IN  A  BOX.  PRICE  ONE  DOLLAR  EACH 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP    ::    New  York 


NEW    EDITIONS    IN     UNIFORM    BINDING 


WORKS  OF 

F.  Marion  Crawford 

i2mo.  Cloth,  each  75  cents,  postpaid 

VIA  CRUCIS  ;  A   Romance  of  the  Second  Crusade. 
Illustrated  by  Louis  Loeb. 

Mr.  Crawford  has  manifestly  brought  his  best  qualities 
OS  a  student  of  history,  and  his  finest  resources  as  a  master 
af  an  original  and  picturesque  style,  to  bear  upon  this  story. 

MR.   ISAACS  :  A  Tale  of  Modern  India. 

Under  an  unpretentious  title  we  have  here  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  novels  that  has  been  given  to  the  world. 

THE  HEART  OF  ROME. 

The  legend  of  a  buried  treasure  under  the  walls  of  the 
palace  of  Conti,  known  to  but  few,  provides  the  frame- 
work for  many  exciting  incidents. 

SARACINESCA 

A  graphic  picture  of  Roman  society  in  the  last  days  of 
the  Pope's  temporal  power. 

SANT'  ILARIO  ;  A  Sequel  to  Saracinesca. 

A  singularly  powerful  and  beautiful  story,  fulfilling  every 
requirement    of  artistic    fiction. 

IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KING  :  A  Love  Story 
of  Old  Madrid.     Illustrated. 

The  imaginative  richness,  the  marvellous  ingenuity  of 
plot,  and  the  charm  of  romantic  environment,  rank  thi> 
novel  among  the  great  creations. 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP,     Publishers 
II   East   i6th  Street      ::      ::       ::      NEW  YORK 


POPULAR    PRICED   EDITIONS    OF    BOOKS 

BY 

LOUIS    TRACY 

i2mo,  cloth,  75  cents  each,  postpaid 


Books  that  make  the  nerves  tingle — romance   and  ad- 
venture of  the  best  type — wholesome   for  family  reading 


THE  PILLAR  OF  LIGHT 

"  Breathless  interest  is  a  hackneyed  phrase,  but  every 
reader  of  *  The  Pillar  of  Light '  who  has  red  blood  in 
his  or  her  veins,  will  agree  that  the  trite  saying  applies  to 
the  attention  which  this  story  commands. — NezoTork  Sun. 

THE  WINGS  OF  THE  MORNING 

*«  Here  is  a  story  filled  with  the  swing  of  adventure. 
There  are  no  dragging  intervals  in  this  volume  :  from  the 
moment  of  their  landing  on  the  island  until  the  rescuing 
crew  find  them  there,  there  is  not  a  dull  moment  for  the 
young  people — nor  for  the  reader  cither/* — New  York 
Times* 

THE  KING  OF  DIAMONDS 

«*  Verily,  Mr.  Tracy  is  a  prince  of  story-tellers.  His 
charm  is  a  little  hard  to  describe,  but  it  is  as  definite  as 
that  of  a  rainbow.  The  reader  is  carried  along  by  the 
robust  imagination  of  the  author. — San  Francisco  Exam- 
iner. 


GROSSET    &     DUNLAP,    Publishers 
II   East   i6th  Street      ::      ::      ::      NEW  YORK 


HERETOFORE     PUBLISHED     AT     i^  i  .  5  o 

Novels    by    JACK    LONDON 

I2M0.,  Cloth,   75    Cents  Each,  Postpaid 

THE   CALL  OF   THE  WILD 

With  Illustrations  by  Philip  R.  Goodwin  and  Charles  Livingston  Bull 
Decorated  by  Charles  Edward  Hopper 

**A  tale  that  is  literature  ...  the  unity  of  its  plan 
and  the  firmness  of  its  execution  arc  equally  remarkable 
...  a  story  that  grips  the  reader  deeply.      It  is  art,  it 

is  literature It  stands  apart,  far  apart  with 

so  much  skill,  so  much  reasonableness,  so  much  convinc- 
ing logic.'* — N.  T,  Mail  and  Express, 

"A  big  story  in  sober  English,  and  with  thorough  art 
in  the  construction  ...  a  wonderfully  perfect  bit  of 
work.  The  dog  adventures  are  as  exciting  as  any  man's 
exploits  could  be,  and  Mr.  London's  workmanship  is 
wholly  satisfying." — The  New  York  Sun, 

«« The  story  is  one  that  will  stir  the  blood  of  every 
lover  of  a  life  in  its  closest  relation  to  nature.  Whoever 
loves  the  open  or  adventure  for  its  own  sake  will  find 
*  The  Call  of  the  Wild'  a  most  fascinating  book." — 
The  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

THE   SEA   WOLF 

Illustrated  by  W.  J.  Aylward 

*'  This  Story  surely  has  the  pure  Stevenson  ring,  the 
adventurous  glamour,  the  vertebrate  stoicism.  'Tis  surely 
the  story  of  the  making  of  a  man,  the  sculptor  being 
Captain  Larsen,  and  the  clay,  the  ease-loving,  well-to-do, 
half-drowned  man,  to  all  appearances  his  helpless  prey." 
—  Critic. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  Publishers 
1 1  East  I  6th  Street       ::       ::       ::       NEW  YORK 


Brewster's    Millions 


BY 


GEORGE    BARR    McCUTCHEON 


<r  The  hero  is  a  young  New  Yorker  of  good  parts  who, 
to  save  an  inheritance  of  seven  millions,  starts  out  to 
spend  a  fortune  of  one  million  within  a  year.  An  eccen- 
tric uncle,  ignorant  of  the  earlier  legacy,  leaves  him 
seven  millions  to  be  delivered  at  the  expiration  of  a  year, 
on  the  condition  that  at  that  time  he  is  penniless,  and 
has  proven  himself  a  capable  business  man,  able  to 
manage  his  own  affairs.  The  problem  that  confronts 
Brewster  is  to  spend  his  legacy  without  proving  himself 
either  reckless  or  dissipated.  He  has  ideas  about  the  dis- 
position of  the  seven  millions  which  are  not  those  of  the 
uncle  when  he  tried  to  supply  an  alternative  in  case  the 
nephew  failed  him.  His  adventures  in  pursuit  of  poverty 
are  decidedly  of  an  unusual  kind,  and  his  disappoint- 
ments are  funny  in  quite  a  new  way.  The  situation  is 
developed  with  an  immense  amount  of  humor. 


OTHER  BOOKS  BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR: 
GRAUSTARK,  The  Story  of  a  Love  behind  a  Throne. 
CASTLE  CRANEYCROW.       THE  SHERRODS. 


Handsome  cloth  bound  volumes,  75  cents  each. 
At  all  Booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 


the  Publishers. 


GROSSET  &  DUNLAP    ::    New  York 


THE    POPULAR   NOVELS  OF 

A.  W.  MARCHMONT 

NOW  OFFERED  IN  HANDSOMELY  MADE 
CLOTH  BOUND  EDITIONS  AT  LOW  PRICES 

Few  writers  of  recent  years  have  achieved  such  a  wide 
popularity  in  this  particular  field  as  has  Mr.  Marchmont. 
For  rattling  good  stories  of  love,  intrigue,  adventure, 
plots  and  counter-plots,  we  know  of  nothing  better,  and 
to  the  reader  who  has  become  surfeited  with  the  analyti- 
cal and  so-called  historical  novels  of  the  day,  we  heartily 
commend  them.  There  is  life,  movement,  animation, 
on  every  page,  and  for  a  tedious  railway  journey  or  a 
dull  rainy  afternoon,  nothing  could  be  better.  They  will 
make  you  forget  your  troubles. 

The  following  five  volumes  are   now  ready   in  our 
popular  copyright  series: 

BY  RIGHT  OF  SWORD 

With  illustrations  by  Powell  Chase. 

A  DASH  FOR  A  THRONE 

With  illustrations  by  D.  Murray  Smith. 

MISER  HOADLEY'S  SECRET 

With  illustrations  by  Clare  Angell. 

THE  PRICE  OF  FREEDOM 

With  illustrations  by  Clare  Angell. 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  PERIL 

With  illustrations  by  Edith  Leslie  Lang. 
Large  l  imo  in  size,  handsomely  bound  in  cloth, 
uniform  in  style. 
Price  73*  cents  per   volume,  postpaid. 

GROSSET    &     DUNLAP,    Publishers 

II   East   1 6th  Street  ::  ::  NEW  YORK 


CHECKERS 

A  Hard  Luck   Story 

By  HENRY  M.  BLOSSOM,  Jr. 
Author  of  *^The  Documents  in  Evidence'^ 


Abounds  in  the  most  racy  and  picturesque  slang. — N. 

T,  Recorder. 

"Checkers"  is  an  interesting  and  entertaining  chap, 
a  distinct  type,  with  a  separate  tongue  and  a  way  of 
saying  things  that  is  oddly  humorous. — Chicago  Record. 

If  I  had  to  ride  from  New  York  to  Chicago  on  a  slow 
train,  I  should  like  a  half-dozen  books  as  gladsome  as 
''Checkers"  and  I  could  laugh  at  the  trip.— A^.  T.  Com- 
mercial Advertiser.  ^ 

''Checkers"  himself  is  as  distinct  a  creation  as  Chim- 
mie  Fadden  and  his  racy  slang  expresses  a  livelier  wit. 
The  racing  part  is  clever  reporting  and  as  horsey  and 
"up-to-date"  as  any  one  could  ask.  The  slang  of  the 
race-course  is  caught  with  skill  and  is  vivid  and  pictur- 
esque, and  students  of  the  byways  of  language  may  find 
some  new  gems  of  colloquial  speach  to  add  to  their  lexi- 
cons.— Springfield  Republican, 

A  new  popular  edition  just  issued^  in  attractive  cloth 
binding,  small  i2mo  in  size.      Price,   75  cents,  postpaid. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 

II   East  1 6th  Street,       ::       ::      New  York 


Tales  of  the  Ex-Tanks 

A  BOOK  OF  HARD  LUCK  STORIES 
By    CLARENCE    LOUIS    CULLEN 

Under  the  above  title  we  have  published  a  volume  of 
stories — or  sketches — that  treat  of  the  * 'strenuous  life'* 
from  the  viewpoint  of  men  who  have  been  up  against  the 
real  thing. 

It  is  a  book  of  tales  of  good  fellows  who  have  won  out 
from  many  odd  and  humorous  predicaments,  in  many 
sections  of  the  United  States,  after  having  played  too 
assiduous  tag  with  the  Flagon,  likewise  the  Tankard, 
similarly  the  Bowl;  and  if,  after  reading  this  book,  you 
will  not  conclude  that  there  is  no  old  rummy  game  of 
hard  luck  from  which  a  man  of  fair  wit  can't  win  out  with 
an  even  break — then  we'll  stand  for  a  correction;  that's  all. 

From  the  Chief  Ex-Tank  down  to  No.  i  3,  the  Hoodoo 
Ex-Tank,  they  are  all  live  ones;  and  they're  all  stake 
class.  If  you've  ever  got  a  solar  plexus  or  an  uppercut 
from  the  mallet-like  fist  of  that  top-notch  heavyweight  of 
them  all— —Hard  Luck — these  reminiscences  of  the  Ex- 
Tanks  will  cause  you  to  revert  to  such  personal  expe- 
riences with  a  sense  of  mellow  recognition. 

We  don't  believe  that  a  better  book  of  tales  for  the 
man  of  to-day  has  yet  been  published. 

Bound  in  cloth,  with  characteristic  cover  design  7^  cents, 

GROSSET     &     DUNLAP 

II    East   1 6th  Street        ::        ;:        ::       NEW  YORK 

Town  Topics  says:  "The  book  is  full  of  laughter. 
No  student  to  American  slang  can  afford  to  pass  it  by.'* 


'11  1  11! 

iliii  I  ijliiiiiii 

'■■■■■'''■1i||il|!f ■' 


iiifiifHliUiriHl 


;::;:i'.it:ii'.iiHU:d 


iiiijiiii 


u;;''-!''!'iitj'<iUi:;;j;;i^ji;(i> 


i.i::;:;i*.iri;ti}{U 


iillH 


m 


t(t!ir.{i!!!i;j> 


infill 


m 


